“Hey!” Peyton caught up with them, but he didn’t sprint past them the way she expected. He seemed to be working hard to maintain his speed. The cursed object dicking with his wolf skills, she realized. They were all at a disadvantage.
There. She saw a flash of his back, dressed in black with reddish hair like his brother. He slammed into an apartment building halfway up the block, Grim hot on his heels. Pouring on more speed, she powered after him.
“I’ll cover the back.” Peyton split left, skidding around the corner of the building.
Jack held a radio to his mouth, barking out the address to the other agents, ordering the place surrounded. His boots thudded up the stairs behind her as she shot after Grim’s unholy keening. Sweat slid down her face, and she swiped at her eyes to clear her vision.
She slipped around a corner, her gun leading the way. Empty hallway. Skittering further along, she tried to control her breathing, her rabbiting heartbeat, tried to hear anything that might clue her in to where they were. Grim’s snarling grew louder to the right, so she ran down that hallway, darting through the maze of halls and staircases. Up, up, left, right.
She could hear them now, Isaak cursing, the distinct sound of a dog attacking. Peeking around the corner, she saw Grim had the Normal down on the ground, and Isaak was fighting hard to escape. She turned back to say something to Jack, only to realize he wasn’t there. When had she lost him? She’d been so focused on getting to Isaak, she’d left herself without backup. Rookie mistake. Fuck.
Pulling her radio off her belt, she cued the comm. “Laramie, Peyton, this is Grayson, come in.”
“Copy,” they both replied. Jack’s voice was breathless and livid. “Where the hell are you?”
“Fourth floor.”
“I’m coming up. Wait for me. Do not engage.” His words were sharp, an edge of fear to them.
She held the radio to her mouth. “Copy tha—Grim!”
A boom of gunfire, the howl of an animal in pain, and she knew she couldn’t wait. Ice froze the blood in her veins. She checked around the corner again, and her heart stopped. Blood. Grim’s blood. Splattered everywhere.
Oh, gods. Rage, black and ugly, clouded everything else. “The building is surrounded, Isaak. Drop your weapon and put your hands up!”
“You know my name.” He sounded more curious than anything else. “Selina.”
Revulsion crawled over her skin at the way he said her name, almost a caress. Her stomach heaved. “Yeah, I know who you are. I know about all your other murders between New Orleans and now.”
He chuckled and it echoed in the empty hallway. “You always were my favorite.”
Ducking out, she squeezed off a shot. And missed. He didn’t. One bullet caught her in the shoulder, where her bulletproof vest didn’t cover, and spun her around. Her arm spasmed and she lost her weapon. The next shot hit her protective talisman and ricocheted, the pendant shattered. The force of the bullet knocked the wind out of her and drove her to her knees. She gagged, trying to breathe, to get air in her lungs. A third bullet hit her thigh, and dark crimson blood spurted out. Femoral artery.
Her mind catalogued the catastrophic damage, even as she crashed to the floor on her side. Then the agony hit, and she screamed. Iron. He’d used iron bullets. It burned as it dissolved in her veins, spreading through her. Her muscles locked, and she shrieked again. Nothing had ever hurt this way before. It went beyond pain, it boiled her flesh from the inside out. If she could have crawled out of her own body then, she would have.
A hand closed over her shoulder, flipping her onto her back. Isaak. He looked like Gregor, but older. The older younger brother. Vampirism had stopped Gregor’s aging, while the ravages of time and disease were on Isaak’s face. If Selina had thought Gregor was enigmatic and deadly, his brother was ... soulless. The darkness of the cursed object had drained him of whatever humanity he had left. His hand clutched it to his chest.
Grim whimpered, snarled, tried to drag himself with his front paws toward them.
Isaak ignored the familiar. “Drinking your blood is going to taste so sweet. I’ve grown to love that flavor. Pity I can’t collect it and take it with me for later like I usually do, but I’ll improvise for you, Selina.”
His free hand slid the metal fangs into his mouth. She tried to scoot out of his reach, but all her body could manage were uncoordinated jerks. He pinned her arm to the ground and pressed the cursed talisman to her. Agony sliced into her, and an inhuman shriek tore from her throat. She could feel it pulling at the magic that was at the very essence of her being, ripping at her, raping her soul. He chuckled, plunged his hand into her hair, and twisted viciously. Arching her throat, he bent to sink his fangs into her flesh, to bleed her dry.
Slapping at him, she tried to fend him off, but knew it was no use. She’d lost too much blood, had iron searing her insides, and that evil talisman wrenched her magic away. Weakness stole into her limbs, and she knew her life could be counted in minutes, seconds.
A moment of absolute clarity hit her. She didn’t want to die. Gods, no. Not like this. She wanted to live. It was bitterly ironic that it took her until right now to realize she didn’t accept her fate, that she wanted the years she could have had with Jack.
That she loved him.
Isaak’s fangs pierced her flesh, and a gurgling cry wrenched out of her. Her cheek was pressed to the floor, Isaak hunched over her on one side, which gave her the perfect view of her bleeding, dying familiar whimpering as he continued to try to crawl forward and save her. A sob spilled out of her. She could hear Jack calling in the distance, could hear his running footsteps, but it was too late. That was how things had always gone with this case—she figured it out too damn late to save anyone, including herself.
She heard glass breaking, a window shattering. Shadows danced in the hallway, and something moved that was too fast for her to see. Isaak lifted away from her, and he shouted something she couldn’t quite grasp. Darkness edged at her vision, and her mind spun in sickening loops. She heard screaming, horrible screaming that didn’t come from her. Two men wrestled, one slamming the other against the wall.
Was it Jack? Peyton?
She blinked hard, tried to focus. She flinched when Isaak’s body hit the floor near her, his eyes blank and staring. Dead. Her head lolled like a broken doll while she tried to see who had killed him. The feel of evil pressing down on her eased, and she drew in a ragged, clean breath.
Perched in the window, the cursed object in his hand, was Gregor. His red hair shone like a penny in the hallway light. “You’re just lucky it’s overcast enough today for me to be here. With a little more luck, you might actually survive.”
A bit of magic sparked back to life within her, and she tried to slow the bleeding in her leg, her arm, her neck. It was futile. Her breath gulped in tiny gasps, and her throat worked while she tried to find the power to speak. “Why?”
The laugh that spilled from him was bitter and sad at once. “Because, despite what you think of me, I have a code of ethics I follow, and letting him kill other people because of me was wrong. I clean up my own messes.”
“Appreciate ... it.”
“Don’t thank me for killing my own brother. Just ... don’t.” His gaze dropped to Isaak’s body, sprawled in a lifeless heap on the floor. He shook his head, turned, and disappeared as abruptly as he’d come.
“Selina! Where the fuck are you? Selina!” Jack roared her name from a great distance, but she didn’t have the strength left to yell back, to call for help.
She could just lie there and die, like Merek had predicted.
It was a bitter pill to swallow.