Chapter 7

I narrowed my eyes, knowing the shadow that danced outside the shelter of light wasn’t shadow at all. The familiar shiver of paras pulsed across my skin like static. The lump of darkness separated into three distinct shapes. 

One moved forward, the others to the sides. Like a lion on the hunt, they circled their unsuspecting prey.

The ebb and flow of life and death is as natural to me as breathing. Balance and counterbalance. And yet there are two types of death. One that is preordained, set in ink, and nothing and no one can change it. It is meant to be, and it will happen. It doesn’t matter how many scenarios you run through; they all lead to the same end result. 

Then there’s the unnatural kind. Murder. Death before its time. Those you can change. This was one of those times. 

The prey was a woman in her early twenties, not pretty, not ugly either. Average. Dispensable. Someone easily overlooked until it was too late. Mussed-up brown hair, library-chic glasses, gray sweater. A typical college student on the cusp of making a mark in the world.

Like a ripple of water moving in reverse, the circle tightened, the shadows almost within arm’s reach.

She looked up, eyes wide, glancing around and nostrils flaring as if she could smell the danger. She huddled a little closer to the safety of people in front of her. She didn’t talk to them, so I knew she wasn’t part of that group. But there was strength in numbers, and somewhere deep down she sensed the threat. 

It always fascinated me how much like animals humans became when you stripped away the thin veneer of civility to expose their baser elements. 

Her baggy, carefree style of dress said she wasn’t vain. The grayish pallor to her skin said she was more often indoors than out, likely studying, as the bags under her eyes attested to. She fidgeted a lot; she wasn’t comfortable in crowds, which meant her friends had probably dragged her out here. 

She had no darkness. She was light. Light doesn’t mean someone’s infallible, perfect, all that’s wholesome. I mean, whatever. That’s about as delusional as believing that once you get married he’ll change. Dream on. 

What it does mean is that eight out of ten times light will choose good over wrong. Helping over hurting. We are not to harm light; she isn’t ours for the taking. The shadows knew that.

She cocked her head, staring out into the darkness as if searching for that mysterious presence. I doubted she had a clue how close the shadows were. They’d stopped moving and were crouched low, hidden to all but those who knew where to look. 

She shook her head and laughed with one of those don’t-be-ridiculous-there’s-nothing-out-there sounds. 

Don’t move. I wanted to scream it at her, but it was too late. She stepped away from the group, and the shadows snapped her up. No one noticed, or if they did, they thought it was some crazy prank. The shadows loped off into the veil of darkness beyond.

I had one of two choices. Follow or stay. 

I growled. “Stupid conscience.” There was no choice.

I ran at a somewhat-fast pace, enough to keep the shadowed shapes in view but slow enough to not draw attention to myself. Expecting to bump into Billy at some point tonight, I was a veritable weapons cache. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he was through with me. Priests are like bloodhounds; once they’ve got your scent, the pursuit is relentless. 

His behavior was unusual, not only leaving me the way he did, but not showing up tonight, all of which made him unpredictable and more dangerous. I’d have to keep alert. Last night Billy had gotten the jump on me, but I was no damsel in distress. I wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

Why then was I running after a pack of baddies, alone and in the middle of the night? Didn’t that scream TSTL? Have you ever lived to be five thousand years old? Do you have any clue how long that actually is? I’m not saying I wanted to die, but I didn’t fear death either. If it happened, it happened. I wasn’t gonna stop living because a death priest thought I should. Screw him and anybody else who felt that way. I was created; therefore I was entitled to live. That’s all I have to say about that.

I passed the Tilt-a-Whirl, glancing at the ride, hoping to spot Vyxyn, but she wasn’t there.

The shadows were getting away from me. Separating, one moving straight, the other to the left, the last to the right. I had no idea who had the girl. 

I really hated when killers got smart. So annoying.

It was a one-in-three chance; I followed door number three and veered to my right, keeping tucked within the safety of the trees. 

The shadow was passing furtive glances over its shoulder. I still couldn’t make out what type of parasite this was. It was clothed in a long midnight-blue robe-cowl combo. If I had to make a guess: vamp. Seemed like the type of thing the stylistic pompous idiots would get a kick out of.

And if it was a vamp, then this was worrying. Why were they getting so bold? 

I didn’t dematerialize to follow. The sulfuric smell would have been a dead giveaway, and stealth was key. I hugged the trees, moving only when he did, slipping between branches with the swift grace of a wraith on the hunt.

The night was still, cold, as if the world held its collective breath. 

Shadow paused, glanced around, and then began a nonsensical path of distraction. Going left, right, in circles, turning around and backtracking, doing it so many times even I began to feel disoriented. This same pattern followed for at least a mile or two. 

What in the world?

I knew what it was doing. Creating a false trail. That way, if anyone came to investigate they’d see a bunch of shambling, aimless prints and nothing more. Since when had the vamps gotten this organized?

Believe it or not, they’re generally loners. You don’t typically find one with another. To see them moving as one, working and hunting together, was troubling. 

I narrowed my eyes; two other shapes joined my shadow, presumably the same ones from before. I didn’t see the girl.

That couldn’t be good. 

They walked a bit farther, then stepped into a clearing with a large bonfire. Orange and yellow flames licked at the night. The wood crackled, spitting out glowing pieces of cinder.

I kept myself tucked in the gloom and silhouette of the trees, studying the layout, gathering Intel the best I could. 

I scanned the field, the trees, and saw no one else. Whatever this was, it only involved the three before me. 

One of the bodies pulled back the cowl. It was a woman, a springy mass of red curls bobbing around her head in the strong breeze that had suddenly kicked up out of nowhere. White eyes with cat irises studied the other two figures before her. 

What a load of garbage those eyes were. Obviously contacts. Vamps loved to play up to the mythos. Truth was when you turned nothing changed. If you were fat before, you’d be fat now. If you had blue eyes, green, brown, didn’t matter. Nothing changed. 

I know I said if you asked for beauty you’d turn vamp, but just because you ask for something doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it. At least not the way you’d expect it. Demons take perverse pleasure in twisting the truth, but we always keep our word. If we tell you you’ll attract hordes of women, you will. It might not be because you’ve turned into Fabio with the long billowy hair but because you’ve grown puss ridden from head to toe. But hey… you’re attracting hordes of women, right? 

She said something, but the wind carried the words away before I could make them out. Then one of the figures nodded and walked back into the woods. 

I leaned over, pulled up the hem of my leather pants, and reached into my boot, grabbing a switchblade I had tucked inside. 

A small scurrying sound grabbed my attention. My heart thudded. I snapped the blade open, metal glinting like blue steel in the moonlight. I looked up, staring hard at the branches above me, and spotted a squirrel.

“Stupid animal.” I turned back toward the makeshift camp.

The other vamp had thrown his hood back. A graying man, balding, maybe in his mid to late thirties, but looks could be deceiving. The only true way to tell a vamp’s age was by the iris. Somewhere around the hundred year mark, the iris begins to turn a shade of red, the hue growing deeper and richer with age.

He and the women were placing large flat stones before the fire, almost like an altar. What was this?

This was occult stuff, not vamp. Vamps were more the drink-’em-and-kill-’em type. 

I didn’t have to wait long to find out what was going on.

The third vamp returned, towing the limp body of the girl. Her head flopped and her feet dragged. It was clear she was unconscious, maybe even comatose if the smashed-in nose, distorted face, and sliced bottom lip had anything to say about it.

The three grabbed the girl and placed her on the altar. One had her by the ankles, another by the wrists, the redhead then walked around to the side of the girl and shucked off her robe. She was nude save for a kopis she had belted at her waist—a wicked knife with at least a fifteen-inch-blade and curved at the center.

Clearly the redhead was the leader, which meant if she went down the others would likely flee. I’d kill her first.

I stretched my senses, trying to feel that shiver of paras. Trying to make certain what I saw in front of me was all there was. I frowned. I felt the shiver all right, but my gut told me something was off. I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it longer. I just hoped whatever it was didn’t come back and bite me in the ass later. 

The redhead grabbed the blade and held it high, the stance dramatic and theatrical. 

The girl groaned.

I threw the knife at the redhead, but at the final second the bald vamp shifted to the side of the altar just enough for the blade to find him instead. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.

“Dammit.” I reached for another knife, but it was too late. Rather than run, which is what I would have expected the pathetic excuses for life forms should have done, the redhead sank her blade into the girl’s chest. 

The unholy scream shivered down my spine. I ran. The time for stealth was over. 

The other robed vamp came at me, throwing its body into mine, dragging me to the ground with a strength belying the small frame. It punched me; its green eyes glowed with satisfaction. I rolled, still taking the punches to my face and chest, but I was somehow able to hook my leg around the vamp’s waist and pin it beneath me. In the scuffle, I’d lost my knife.

Thankfully I had plenty more. 

The redhead rushed me.

“Sick, perverted freaks,” I snarled, reaching into the leather at my cleavage and pulling out another blade. 

She screamed, her nails clawing at my face. The body beneath me bucked. Does anyone have a clue how hard it is to fight sitting down? This was ridiculous. Angry, I tightened my thighs on the vamp below me and punched Red. I didn’t have much momentum. Thank God I was strong.

It only diverted her attention for a second though. She shook her head and then dived at me again. This time I was able to snap open the blade and bury it in her neck. Hot blood sprayed my face.

She grabbed her neck. Sick, gurgling sounds fell from her lips.

My eyes burned from the salt. I wiped at them, trying to clear my vision. My distraction almost cost me.

The vamp beneath me shoved me, and I had to put a hand out to steady myself. I freed it just enough that it could wrap its hand around my neck.

I gasped for air. 

I punched at its temple, knocking the hood back and revealing the baby-smooth skin of an adolescent boy. Twelve, no older than thirteen.

I reached into my other boot and grabbed my black razor fan, snapping it open. 

In one fluid movement I sliced the fan through the kid’s neck. He blinked twice, his hand on my throat relaxing. I took greedy gulps of sweet, fresh air, ignoring the ache I felt in doing so. My stomach heaved and I looked away. I’d done what I had to do, regardless if I liked it or not.

I reached for the blade at my back and then shoved it like a stake through the boy’s chest. He grabbed at the knife with blood-soaked hands, fingers futilely trying to pull it out. I ground my jaw and pushed deeper until, finally, the light left his eyes.

The redhead still twitched beside me. I yanked the knife out of her oozing throat and repeated the same process I’d done to the boy. After several seconds, she too lay still. I cleaned my knives as best I could on the fallen leaves and shoved them back where they belonged.

 I pushed away from the bodies and stood. I had an hour before they reanimated. The only true way to kill a vamp was to take out its heart. I swallowed the bile lodged in my throat. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take out the kid’s heart. But I knew someone who could.

My legs shook as I walked toward the girl. She was still as death. I glanced at the bald vamp to see if there was any movement. There wasn’t. My aim had been true. 

I returned my attention back to the girl. Her gray sweater was no more. It was black in the light of the moon. I grabbed her by the shoulders, and she moaned. It was a small sound, whispery thin. 

I pulled her off the altar, which only made her whimper worse. I was sorry to cause her pain, but no one deserved to die this way. I would not let her die alone.

I hugged her to my chest and sat.

She gripped my hand, blue eyes alive and shimmering with pain. “Pl… please.”

“Ssh.” I shook my head, rubbing her mangled cheek in a soothing gesture. Her cheek shifted like the skin covered sand instead of bone. “Don’t talk. Ssh.”

Her chest heaved, every breath labored. Awful to hear. I rocked with her, humming under my breath, wishing I had the type of glamour to bring peace in death. But demons don’t do peace. We’re vengeance, destruction, wrath, fury; in us you’ll find no rest. 

“Pl… Mom.” She gasped. “Dad, sis…” She closed her eyes. Her grip on my hand loosened. Her breathing came slower and slower. “Lo… ve.” With that final word, she gave up the ghost. 

I hung my head. I’ve never cried—don’t know if I can’t or I won’t—but if I’d had any tears to give, I think I could have then.

My skin prickled with static. Forced to drop the girl, I swiveled, reached for my knife, and two things happened at once.

First, a cloaked figure stabbed both my arms—a vamp I hadn’t seen before and flippin’ should have sensed.

And second, I heard a metallic whiz of a knife whistle through the air before it buried itself in the figure before me. The vamp crumpled to the ground. The hilt of a knife poked from its back.