She stared at Wraith and wiped her lips with the back of her hand while the cracked, black skin on the side of her face began to regrow and regenerate, her healing powers amplified by the werewolf blood in her system. It ran hot in her veins and caused her heart to start pumping again, warming her skin, causing her body to produce adrenaline, and sharpening her vision.
Before he could hit her again, Pixi reached for his arm with both of hers and raked her claws across it. Wraith screamed and let go of her hair, and when she was free, she rolled away from him, and entered a crouched stance. Wraith stood now as well. Though his face was caked with blood, and the cuts she had dealt him were there, they weren’t as severe as they had when she had first struck him.
“How did you get out,” he said in a gruff, gravelly voice. His teeth had elongated along the top and bottom of his mouth, and they caused him difficulty when he spoke.
“Shouldn’t you be worried about your friends?” Pixi asked.
Wraith glanced over his squirming pack. “You used silver?” he asked through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna get you for that. I’m going to get you, and I’m going to tear you open, and fuck you in every new hole I make.”
“Tell Murdock what you did,” Pixi said, her heart thumping so hard she almost couldn’t hear herself speak. “Tell him or I’ll kill them, and then I’ll kill you.”
“Bullshit. That’s a six-shooter. You already popped three caps. You can’t kill four werewolves with three bullets, vamp bitch.”
“There’s more of us,” Pixi said, nodding over to the crane. Wraith turned his head and saw Lionel standing on the edge, his fangs drawn and his mouth hanging slightly open to reveal them.
“That’s just one vamp,” Wraith said.
“Up there, sure, but we have this whole placed locked down. Now, I won’t ask again; tell Murdock what you did.”
“You’ll have to kill me,” he said, spitting on the floor.
Pixi lowered her eyes. “Fine,” she said, and she charged at him.
Lionel leapt off the crane and came running too, sprinting so fast his feet barely touched the ground. She pounced on him and clamped onto his shoulders, causing him to stagger into the path of Lionel’s fist. The hit to Wraith’s back was solid and loud, like a thunderclap heard underwater. Wraith yowled from the pain and went to bite Pixi, but she grabbed his mouth and held it open.
When he toppled to the ground, slamming Pixi into the floor beneath him, his weight was almost too much to bear. She struggled to keep Wraith’s teeth away from her face, but he was much stronger than her and those powerful jaws were getting too close. Lionel then came to her aid, slipping his arms beneath Wraith’s chin and pulling him up.
With his throat exposed, it took all of Pixi’s willpower to stop herself from thrusting her claws through it. She could have killed him there and then. Would have opened her mouth and let his warm, sweet blood pour into her throat directly from his. She would have enjoyed it, too—would have exulted in it. But if she did that, if she killed Wraith, she also killed any chance she had at getting into Murdock’s good graces.
Instead of shoving her claws into his neck, she clenched her hand into a fist and struck him with her knuckles instead, causing him to gag and choke. Lionel who, seemed to be possessed of great supernatural strength, pulled Wraith off her and brought him to the ground. Wraith turned around to strike him, but Lionel was ready with a solid, quick crack to the side of the head that turned Wraith’s lights off.
Pixi stood and dusted herself off. Lionel, likewise, straightened out. Before their very eyes, Wraith’s body began to shrink into his much smaller, scrawnier human form, the ridges disappearing, the fur along the sides of his face and all along his arms retracting back into his skin.
Lionel grabbed Wraith and tossed him over his shoulder. “We should get out of here before they remember how to walk,” he said, referring to the squirming, cursing werewolves.
Pixi nodded, and without saying another word headed right out of the junkyard with Lionel by her side. At the gate, the security guard greeted them both with a friendly wave. “You guys have a good night, now,” he said, seeming almost not to notice the body Lionel was carrying.
When they got to the street, Pixi rummaged around in Wraith’s pockets until she found the set of keys that belonged to the car parked in front of the junkyard. Lionel shoved him into the backseat and got into the passenger’s seat. Pixi drove like a demon, speeding through the night. Wraith could have woken up at any second, and she didn’t want to risk being caught out in the middle of Crow’s Heights when he did.
She parked the car outside the bar. There was no one standing guard tonight, but the lights were on and the line of Harleys and choppers was there too, like they were sentries themselves.
“You should wait out here,” she said.
“Oh, because that worked a treat when I said it,” Lionel said.
“I mean it. They’ll kill you.”
“And they won’t kill you?”
“No.”
“Why? Because you’re one of them?”
Pixi gave Lionel a cold, hard stare. She could feel her heart pounding against her temples causing her vision to shake and tremble, but exulted in the sensation of being alive again. It was like taking the first breath of air after being choked for too long; a rush to almost rival the first taste of blood in a new night.
Almost.
“Fine,” she said, “But if they kill you, it’s not my fault. Help me get this prick out of the backseat.”
Chapter Twelve
Pixi opened the backseat, grabbed Wraith by his leg, and dragged him out of the car and then across the street. When she hit the sidewalk at the foot of the bar, she pulled her gun from her waistband, aimed it into the sky, and fired a round off into the clouds. She then let Wraith’s leg go and planted her foot on his chest.
Lionel waited impatiently, flexing his fingers as werewolves began spilling out of the bar and into the street. Pixi aimed the barrel of her gun at the back of Wraith’s head and stared at the angry faces glaring at her from across the street. The wind shifted, causing her hair to blow across her face. Her heart was pounding now. One wrong move and the werewolves would be on her like a horde of horny men looking to mate with the last woman on the planet.
But then Murdock showed, and Pixi let her gun arm relax.
“What the fuck is this,” Murdock said, his voice ripping through the night like a fire blazing through a dry forest.
“Got a present for you,” Pixi said. “He’s a little dirty, but that’s only because I played with him a little roughly.”
Murdock stared at Wraith. “Where’s the rest of his pack?” he asked. “Dead?”
“No,” Pixi said, “But I would be dead if they’d had their way.”
More werewolves had gathered around Murdock. Compared to him, every single man and woman, despite their large builds, tattoos, and biker clothes, looked like children; children pretending to be tough adults.
“Get his ass inside,” Murdock said to the closest man at his side.
“What?” he said, his face going red, “Let me kill this vamp bitch!”
“You don’t want me to repeat myself, boy.”
The werewolf clenched his jaw, but he nodded and stepped up to Pixi. He then carried Wraith back into the bar while the other men and women stood by the door, parting only to let them enter and then reforming.
“You get inside too,” Murdock said, “We’ll talk in there.”
“He comes too,” Pixi said.
Murdock eyed Lionel up and down. “No. You’re asking me to let a vampire suit into my bar. I can’t allow that.”
“He goes in with me or I walk, and you never find out the truth.”
A pause, pregnant with tension, passed. “You come into my house, you play by my rules; especially if you don’t have any wolf blood in you. You understand what that means?”
“I think so,” Lionel said.
Murdock stepped
aside. Pixi walked up to the bar’s front door, then went passed him continued inside. Lionel followed, though he did so with trepidation; as if he were crossing a portal into an unknown world.
The werewolves watched Pixi and Lionel as they picked their way across the bar to the place where Murdock sat. She waited and watched while Murdock followed them in and eventually sat in his coveted spot. The air grew tighter with every second he allowed to pass without speaking. Pixi thought the slightest whisper could set her off and send her howling into the streets, regretting having come here, but then Murdock spoke.
“I guess you should tell me what the fuck happened out there,” he said.
“You mean Wraith hasn’t already told you how I burned the place down?” Pixi asked.
“Did you?”
“Like hell I did. Why would I burn the building down?”
“Because you’re just as bad as your mother was. Because she would have done it just to be a thorn in my side.”
“Maybe she would have, but I wanted to prove something to you. Burning the lab down wouldn’t have done me any good.”
“So, what happened?”
Pixi turned her eyes to Lionel, then back at Murdock. “Wraith happened,” she said, “That motherfucker tried to burn me alive.”
“But he didn’t.”
“Only because I’m just as hard to put down as you assholes.”
A knowing smirk crossed Murdock’s’ lips. “Yeah you are,” he said. “So he tried to have you killed. The place went up in flames. Then what?”
“I hunted that motherfucker down and gave him and his pack the beating of their lives.”
A soft murmur of voices somewhere behind her stole her attention, but only for an instant.
“Where are they now?” he asked.
“I haven’t killed any werewolves tonight, if that’s what you mean. They’re probably on their way.”
Murdock’s jaw clenched tightly, and his Adam’s apple began to work on its own. “He’s more trouble than he’s worth sometimes.”
“You’re telling me. There was a family in that house. They would have died too.”
His expression hardened, giving him the appearance of stone. “How many?”
“A woman and a child. I got them out, but only barely.”
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t make it my business to ask.” Wraith started to stir, but Pixi ignored him. “I want you to give me another task,” she said.
“Another task?”
“I’m not done proving myself.”
“Christ, you’re still harping on about that?”
“I still want Wraith’s pack out of my fucking streets.”
“And you think me giving you another task is going to do that? Think it’s going to make these motherfuckers see you as… what, an equal?”
Pixi looked around. “Maybe,” she said.
“No,” Lionel said, interjecting. Pixi could have punched him in the mouth, and she almost did.
“No?” Murdock asked, directing himself to Lionel only after what felt like an eternity had passed. It was as if acknowledging Lionel’s presence, even talking to him, caused him some kind of pain.
“She doesn’t want another task,” Lionel said. “She did what you asked and one of your subordinates sabotaged her mission, tried to have her killed, and destroyed what I understand was going to be an asset for you and your organization.”
Asset? Organization? Subordinates? Lionel had no idea how to handle werewolves, he had no clue how they operated or what their values were, let alone what their motivations were. He was on thin ice and Pixi knew it, but interrupting now would have been worse. She had to watch this fiery train-wreck all the way to the end, whether she liked it or not.
“You understand,” Murdock said, nodding his head like he was talking to a child. “Just what is it you understand?”
“I understand the rule of the streets,” Lionel said. “Pixi not only defended herself the first time she was attacked, she also survived almost being killed by one of your kind, and then exacted her revenge. According to the law of the streets, Wraith and his pack belong to her now.”
“They belong… you think we’re property?”
“Lionel,” Pixi warned.
“No,” Lionel said, “But if you don’t give Pixi what she wants, it’ll reflect badly on you.”
“How do you figure that, leech?”
“You’ll be seen as a weak leader, who would prefer to let his people run wild in the streets, interfering with his plans than chastise them for their behavior. I wouldn’t let my people behave this way.”
“And you’re suggesting I… reprimand… Wraith and his pack?”
Wraith meanwhile continued to stir. He opened his eyes at one point and looked up, trying to get his bearings. His hand went to his head and he rubbed the area where Pixi had cut him. The marks were still there, but they had healed to the point where they were only thin lines instead of the deep gashes Pixi had left on him earlier.
“If you get Wraith out of Crow’s Heights and give Pixi the respect she’s earned,” Lionel said, “I’ll subsidize a new base of operations for you and your people to work from.”
“You will?” Murdock said.
“I have the money, and as far as I understand it you want to keep an eye on the harbor—something about rough types entering the city from the sea. That’s something I can get behind.”
“Don’t your kind have an interest in the harbors around the city? Sounds like a conflict of interests to me.”
“The only thing I care about is the stability of my own region. If I have to help you in order to ensure that, I will.”
“Lionel, you don’t have to do that,” Pixi said, an angry heat rising into her chest and throat. “I’m not going to let you buy my respect.”
“He isn’t buying your respect,” Murdock said. “You already earned it.”
“What’s the bitch doing here?” Wraith said, growling through gritted teeth as he fought his way to his feet.
Lionel stood, and Pixi tensed, but remained seated. “Sit your ass down you piece of shit,” Murdock said, “Or else I’ll finish the job she started.”
Wraith looked like he was going to say something, but instead decided to lunge. Lionel was a blur. In one sudden, almost imperceptible motion he was behind Wraith, with his arms wrapped under the werewolf’s armpits, lifting him off the ground. Some of the werewolves in the bar made motions to try and intercept, but quickly hesitated and remained where they were.
“Let me go, you asshole,” Wraith yelled. “You’re going to let this vampire do this to me in your bar?” he asked Murdock.
“Is it true what she says?” Murdock asked.
“What? What’s she told you?”
“She told me what you did. Is it true?”
“She’s a fucking vamp, Murdock—vampires lie!”
Murdock stood, slowly, deliberately. “I asked you a question,” he said, “I want an answer. Did you do what she said you did.”
Many of the werewolves in the bar turned their eyes on Wraith. The ones who didn’t kept their eyes on Murdock instead and seemed ready to bolt at any minute; ready to flee as soon as Murdock’s teeth came out. Pixi had never seen a man as formidably sized as him wear his take-no-shit form. How much bigger could he get?
Wraith squirmed, attempting to break Lionel’s vice-like grip, but failed. “Let me go or I’ll rip you to pieces.”
“Good luck doing that,” Lionel said.
“I won’t ask again,” Murdock said.
“Yeah, okay, I did it,” Wraith said. “But, I mean, were you seriously going to give a vampire the same kind of respect you give me?”
“Right now you don’t have a stream of piss’ worth of my respect.”
Wraith’s face deflated like a popped balloon. “What?” he asked.
“You went against my orders,” Murdock said, “You interfered in my plans and burned down a place
that was for all of us. That means you took something away from each and every one of us.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Your pack’s been losing faith in you. Is that why you did it? Is that why you went into the Heights and caused all this shit? So your pack would stop seeing you as the weak little prick you are?”
“You don’t get to say that to—”
“This is my house. I can say whatever the fuck I want, and don’t you forget it.” Wraith stopped resisting, stopped answering back. He seemed to shrink into himself, like he was out of steam. Murdock turned to look at Pixi and she stood to meet his eyes. “You earned your place here,” he said, “You can run with us like blood. Join a pack. Live like a wolf.”
Pixi wasn’t expecting to hear that. She stared at Murdock. Her heart called for her to say yes. This was exactly what she had wanted—to belong. Murdock had given her that chance right now to shed the stigma becoming a vampire had put on her. A chance to run with the wolves meant no more discrimination, no more fights, and a chance to have a pack of her own; people who will have her back no matter what.
But she shook her head. “Thanks,” she said, turning her eyes toward Lionel, “But I don’t need a pack. I’ve got one.”
Murdock looked at Lionel too. “Him?” he asked.
“Him. My people in the Heights. They all need me, and I guess I need them.”
“Fine. Then Wraith’s pack will pull out of the Heights, assuming they’re still alive somewhere.”
“No,” Pixi said, “I don’t want them to leave. I think they can be useful, but I want them to answer to me.”
Wraith was about to speak, but Murdock shut him down with a single glare. “I thought you said you already had a pack,” Murdock said.
“I don’t want them as a pack. But I do want them to work for me.”
“Work for you?” Wraith said, interrupting, “Fuck you. My pack will never work for a vamp bitch.”
“We ain’t your pack anymore,” a voice said from the other side of the bar. Three men had walked in, their clothes tattered and covered in dirt. They looked like shit, but they were alive, and they seemed to be able to walk. A testament to their species’ fortitude.
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