The light in his face that used to guide our hunts has turned cruel and sinister, and his mockery is as wicked as the thing we killed in the cemetery.
“I’m only getting started, bloodsucker,” I growl.
He takes a step to the side. “I see you’re using the old lingo,” he scoffs, casually waving a hand. “Will you call me demon next?”
“If the label fits.”
All at once, he’s serious. He straightens as if having an idea and turns to face me. The white shirt beneath his black tuxedo jacket gleams in the lamplight just like his skin.
“Do you remember when I taught you to hunt?” He watches me intently, as if measuring my reaction.
I remain neutral. I’m well aware he knows every move I’ll make to bring him down. I’m on guard against tricks. “Of course, I remember.”
He nods and takes a few more steps along the perimeter of the pavilion opposite me. “We were an unbeatable team. We just never had a chance to prove ourselves in any real fights. Still, my brains combined with your muscle… I was invincible!”
I almost laugh at his fucking arrogance. “Then why are you here now—as a vampire? Clearly someone bested you.”
I’ve heard of vampire blood causing madness, but I’ve never spoken to one long enough to verify it. His eyes lower as if remembering something from long ago.
“She was so beautiful.” He speaks the words in hushed, longing tones. “She came to me at the reflecting pool, in the sculpture garden. Her long, red hair undulated in waves like magic.”
“She used her hypnotic powers on you.”
“If she did, she didn’t need to. She entranced me from the start. I would do whatever she asked. Lilith…”
A whine from the back corner reminds me Stuart’s condition is dire. I don’t have time to listen to his bullshit anymore. “You killed Alison.”
Those three words snap him from his trance. His eyes turn white-blue and almost seem to glow in the darkness. Only the fog that surrounds us does not bind them. They’re little rays of pure evil pointing straight at me. My breath ticks up a notch, and my heart rate quickens. Here it comes.
“Who told you that?” He snarls like a cat, and I know he’s cornered. I’m calculating the right moment to drop and grab my gun.
“The old one in the cemetery. He was far less worried about dying as he was about ratting out your sorry ass.”
Something changes. My vision blurs like I’ve been hit with nerve gas. Sloan’s body starts to undulate before my eyes. He’s an image on the surface of the water, rippling after a stone has been tossed. My strength fails, and I realize in a panic, he’s overpowering me with his glamour. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but I can’t fight him. I drop to my knees as he begins to torture me with his words.
“Yesss…. Alison,” he says. “Alison Spencer Alexander, with her soft blonde hair. Her blood was sweet like peaches. A little spicy like nutmeg.”
Rage blazes in my chest, and I try to fight his power. He’s holding me on my knees, numb from the neck down. My limbs won’t obey me, and the fury builds in my useless body, pressure pounding in my temples. Dropping my head back I use all my strength to raise my arms.
“RAAAHHH!!!” I shout, willing my body to respond. The power of the vengeance inside me should be enough. It isn’t.
Sloan only laughs, which piques my fury higher. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Being under my control. I’m as powerful as an old one, thanks to all our study and work. Most of those idiots take years to learn what I already knew the moment I changed. It’s possible I’m the most powerful vampire on this continent.
“Melissa is merely another step in my climb to greatness.” White-hot rage glares back at me. “You thought you would take her from me, but that’s where you’re wrong. She’s mine, and she will always be mine as long as my blood is in her veins.”
I’ve got to break free of him. If I don’t we’ll lose everything. Not only is my partner’s life on the line, if Sloan eludes us here, we’ll never find him again. He’ll go so deep underground… I know him. I know his cunning. He’ll take Melissa and go so far, I’ll never find him. He’ll torture her, and I won’t be able to save her.
Sweat forms on my brow, and desperation twists in my lungs. “You’re not getting away with this,” I say through my clenched jaw.
“Looks like I already have.” He leans toward me. “It should only be a few moments longer before his life is gone.”
Fucking murderer! He’s waiting for Stuart to die. His cold blue eyes hold mine, and if I had any use of my arms, I’d break his neck.
I’m ready to bargain with him. I’m ready to say anything that will make him leave so I can save my partner when a noise like a puma snarl echoes in the metal building.
My head snaps up just in time to see a large golden body fly through the opening and hit Sloan square in the chest. His power over me breaks, and I fall forward briefly before staggering to my feet. What happens next, is hard to explain.
Blue fury blinds me. A burning need to kill him overshadows my thoughts. I reach out and grab my former mentor by the top of his hair, jerking him to his feet with one hand as my other holds the stake. His head pivots and those white eyes fix on mine. In that moment, I get the twisted idea to finish him the way he finished Alison.
I don’t hesitate. I rip his head back against my shoulder, and a satisfying CRUNCH! of bone greets my ears. His neck is broken, but he’s still alive. Only three things kill a vampire, and a broken neck isn’t one of them.
Patrick is doing something with Stuart when I commit the act that seals my doom. I lunge forward and snap my teeth on Sloan’s larynx. As if in a dream, I latch onto his cold skin, ripping it, breaking it. Spitting the flesh aside as his hot blood fills my mouth, salty and metallic. I swallow quickly so I can speak.
“Is this how you killed her?” My voice is primitive, animalistic. “Is this how you raped Melissa?”
Again, I repeat my actions. His head jerks back much easier now that I’ve bit away his throat. I’m ready to rip it from his shoulders, but just before I do, satisfaction gleams in his eyes. It’s the last thing I see before his head is severed, and those eyes cloud over in a death mask.
Dropping his horrid body, I stagger back, falling against the column of the pavilion. The delirium is broken. I’m awake, and I realize he controlled me all the way to the end.
He knew I had his blood in my veins from our psychic connection. He used my rage. He beat me with the most cunning vengeance imaginable. He caused me to drink his blood as I made the kill.
He turned me into the thing he was. The very thing I hate.
16
Changes Melissa
I feel it the moment I’m released. I’m lying in Mariska’s bed, not sleeping as always, watching the dark sky grow darker as I do every night until it reaches the darkest point and the light begins creeping up the horizon—at which point, I fall asleep.
Demeter’s house isn’t designed for company, so I’m in this bed while Elaine is on the pull-out couch. Mariska sleeps with her grandmother.
Ever since Patrick left us, we’ve been on edge. Patchouli candles are lit in every window filling the house with their heavy, spicy perfume. Demeter ordered her granddaughter out into the garden to snip several stalks off her rosemary and yarrow plants, and then she ground them into a powder she sprinkled around the front and back doors. After that, she went to her attic and proceeded to chant for a good hour.
I don’t think she’s afraid. Fear isn’t part of the equation. It’s more of a ritual, something she does whenever she’s under spiritual attack. What surprised me most of all were her prayers. She’s said traditional Catholic prayers all evening in addition to the protection and hiding spells. I suppose we need all the help we can get.