She sighed. She prided herself on using violence only when she needed to. The opposite of Jack. She was not a mindless, bloodthirsty vampire.
But her patience had limits.
“Guys, look, I can appreciate you both trying to do your jobs. But we both know you’re human, and I’m … not. I could easily overpower both of you and just walk inside.” She gestured to her jeans and turquoise tee shirt and playfully ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ve already showered three times today and ruined two sets of clothes. I don’t want to get blood on anything else.”
The man wasn’t impressed. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder.
“You do that, and all the bloodsuckers in that club will eat you alive.”
The arrogance gnawed at her. She took a step forward, invading his space. He flinched, ever so slightly, but resumed his tight posture. She ran a finger down his arm. The gesture may have seemed flirtatious, but her intention was anything but.
“That may be true. But, you and your friend will still be in a coma. And when you wake up, you’ll both still be on my nasty side. Ask yourself, is it worth it?”
Victoria looked past as the second man approached. He gave Victoria a smile, but she could see the fear in his eyes. He grabbed his partner by the shoulder.
“Billy,” he said. “Just let her go, man. Zeke’s not paying us that much.”
“Ah, smart,” Victoria said. “What’s your name?”
“Paul.”
“Billy and Paul,” she said, reaching for her back pocket. “I don’t carry much on me. My purse is back at the hotel. But for helping me keep these clothes blood-free—” She pulled out two hundred-dollar bills. “For you.”
They said nothing, just looked at each other. Finally, Billy accepted his payment, and nodded toward the door. Victoria mouthed a silent thank you before stepping inside The Eighth.
The crowd was thinner than the other night, but there were still plenty of bodies. They moved, drank, danced, laughed. One female vampire fed openly from a man as they danced. Her fangs were buried in his neck, giving the illusion of just an intimate moment, but the act was still rather clumsy. If Victoria wasn’t in a hurry, she might have stopped to give advice.
Victoria headed toward Zeke’s private room. There were no guards, and the door was unlocked. She pushed the door opened slowly, almost fearful she was walking into a trap. There was more laughter, the scent of blood, the sounds of gentle sucking. No one noticed her step inside and shut the door behind her.
Zeke sat on a couch, a tablet in hand. A woman sat next to him, a hand on his knee, engaged in conversation with another woman. Two vampires fed from a man in the back corner. A group of three were in the middle of a game of pool.
The bartender was the first to notice Victoria. He gestured to a man not far away, flirting with a brunette with very little clothing. Apparently, his job was security, and he was failing. He almost stumbled in his approach.
Everyone reacted. The guard reached under his coat for a gun. The bartender bent over to retrieve his own weapon. The feeding and laughter stopped.
Victoria reacted faster.
She snatched the guard’s wrist and squeezed, breaking several bones. While twisting him to the floor, she reached across the bar and grabbed the barrel of the bartender’s shotgun. She pointed it upward just before he pulled the trigger. Chunks of ceiling and debris rained on top of them. The blast sent pain and heat through Victoria’s hand, but she didn’t let go.
Zeke jumped to his feet and shouted as chaos broke out.
“What? What the fuck? How did she—?”
Victoria ripped the shotgun away from the bartender and struck him with it. Vampires rushed forward. More humans pulled weapons.
She pulled the gun away from the guard and reached for the closest human, the brunette with little clothing. Victoria wrapped an arm around her bare stomach and pulled her close, while pointing the gun to her head. Everyone in Zeke’s private room froze.
The silence was quick, almost eerie. The only noise came from the guard, who moaned in pain.
“Name?” Victoria asked.
The woman trembled with fear.
“H-Heather.”
“Heather, I’m Victoria. Work with me, and everything will be fine.”
“You let her go,” Zeke ordered.
“Of course. As soon as you promise me ten minutes of your time.”
“Look around you, Victoria,” he said, gesturing to the vampires and weapons. “There’s no way you walk out of this alive.”
“I just want to talk, Zeke.”
“Well, I don’t.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Wow. You really just can’t see the big picture, can you?”
“And you can? Go ahead and enlighten me.”
Victoria emptied the gun and dropped it to the floor. She released Heather and gently eased her forward. Heather ran into Zeke’s arms and hid behind him.
Everyone raised their weapons. Zeke motioned for them to hold.
“You’re right,” she said, taking in the room. “So many guns. So many fangs. I might take quite a few with me, but there’s no way I survive.”
He laughed.
“You’re not helping yourself.”
“But what do you think happens after that?”
Zeke’s blank expression told her he still wasn’t following.
“Then my friends come looking for me,” she said. “You think the witch is bad? Imagine a thousand demons running around like it was the end-times. They’d swallow this place whole. And pray that you never have to meet my brother.”
He softened, ever so slightly. Victoria could see the thoughts swirling.
“Ten minutes,” she said, offering her best smile. “We don’t have to pull our guns out every time I walk into the room.”
Zeke’s shoulders slumped as he relented. He gestured for Victoria to follow. She stepped over the unconscious bartender and joined Zeke as they approached yet another door.
“You are starting to be a real pain in my ass.”
“Well, the feeling is mutual. The only difference is I like to talk first, beat up people last. Not like you, it seems.”
He opened the door to reveal a stairwell. They ascended and made their way to the roof. Victoria recognized it from Alan’s photos. She could feel the music beneath her. The night air was a relief to her senses.
Junk from their last party littered the roof. Empty beer bottles, a grill, glasses of dried blood, a table and chairs. Victoria liked to have fun. She was centuries old, but wasn’t prudish. Still, Zeke wasn’t her type of vampire. A garbage can and some cleanliness went a long way.
“You don’t exactly believe in low profile, do you?”
“Our circle is tight,” he said. “Our humans love us, and we love them. We’ve got something here. We don’t need ancients like you to tell us to hide in the shadows, don’t play with the humans, whatever. Now, why are you here?”
“I’ve got to hand it to you, Zeke. You lied to me. I usually pick out liars pretty well.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
She slammed a picture of Alan on the table. Then another, followed by a third.
“You know him. You said you didn’t, but you did. That’s called a lie.”
“Oh, yeah. Alan.” He flashed her a smug smirk, running his finger across the photo. “Now, I remember.”
Victoria almost lashed out. She clenched her fists and locked them in her lap as she sat across from him.
“He was human, and now he’s not,” Victoria said.
“And who says a story can’t have a happy ending? That’s what he wanted.”
She leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes.
“I’m listening.”
“Look, his sister doesn’t know this, and if you have an ounce of compassion, you’ll keep it that way. Alan has cancer, and he’s been trying to become a vampire ever since he found out.”
“
Become a vampire? You can’t just choose to become a vampire.”
“I know that. And you know that. But … Alan doesn’t. He tried everything. Crazy sex shit, three-ways, massive feedings, injecting vampire blood into his body. I know he started digging deeper, reaching out to underground scientists.” He picked up the photo of Alan chained to a wall. “It looks like he finally found what he was looking for.”
“No, he didn’t.” She angrily shook the photo at him. “This isn’t good, Zeke. Alyson knows about his cancer, because the two of us found out together. And then Alan came, and attacked. He tried to kill his own sister. Someone did this to him. Using magic. This is not a normal vampire.”
Zeke blinked in confusion. He studied the photo again, and for the first time, his confidence ebbed somewhat.
“He’s just thirsty. He’s close to bloodlust.”
“No, Zeke. There’s something much worse going on. We found another one in the sewers. Wild, just like Alan. And a man showed up at Alyson’s. He was controlling Alan. Probably using magic. Look, be honest with me.”
“I am! I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I didn’t exactly hang out with the guy after work. You know what I mean? I know him. He’s a cool guy. But whatever happened to him, I have no idea.”
“Will you help me, at least? For this town’s sake, and your own?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just … keep your ears open. You know this town. Ask around. There is someone here, with magic, and I think they’re turning humans into vampires. But not like you and me. You can see that’s bad, right?”
“Fuck you.”
“Good. Glad we agree.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” he said. “And then, I want you out … ”
Zeke trailed off as something touched their ears. Commotion. A shift in the music's cadence beneath.
Screams.
CHAPTER 22
IT WAS A quiet drive from Marie’s hotel to the ruined remains of Jack’s home. Marie drove her rental as Jack sat next to her. She didn’t engage in conversation. There was no need. She thought about reaching for his hand once, but decided against it. She could only imagine the dark places his mind was going.
Marie had only fleeting relationships through her life, so she couldn’t entirely relate to what Jack was going through. She certainly never had a daughter. But she had been pursued before. By werewolf hunters, packs of other werewolves that didn’t agree with her solo lifestyle, by the local mob who wanted to set an example of what happened when their protection was refused. She understood fighting back, and understood revenge.
She didn’t know Skye very well, but knew she didn’t deserve whatever fate had tossed her way.
Even if she wasn’t Jack’s friend, she would help him with whatever he needed. But she was Jack’s friend.
Whatever terrible things he was going to do, she would be at his side.
“How are you doing?” she asked, knowing it was a silly question.
“Not good. But … thanks for checking in.”
“If you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
He nodded, but didn’t take her up on the offer.
The scent of Jack’s home struck her nose as they turned onto his street. She watched Jack, looking for a reaction of any kind, as they slowed to a stop in front of his house. Whatever Jack was feeling, he was keeping it to himself.
Marie showed more emotion than Jack.
A tear escaped as she slid out from behind the wheel. The thought of his poor daughter hiding in a closet while her world burned around her shook Marie. There was also Skye, so close to freedom, yet being pulled into the darkness by humans. She didn’t want to think about what they were doing to her.
They had to find her, save her.
Marie leaned back inside the car and pulled Kevin’s magical potion from the glove compartment. She held it up for Jack, but he wasn’t watching. He stood on the sidewalk, staring at what was once his home.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked, standing by his side.
He nodded.
She popped the cork on the vial and took a deep breath. At that moment, she realized there were so many questions she forgot to ask Kevin. Was she supposed to drink the whole potion? Would changing into a werewolf increase the potency? What was even in the potion? It smelled like butterflies and pepperoni, a strange combination.
Tilting her head back, she drank the potion. It burned going down, leaving a trail of fire from her throat to her stomach.
Ten seconds passed. Jack watched her. She couldn’t tell whether he was concerned, annoyed, or impatient. Maybe it was all three.
“Well?” he said. “Anything?”
“Uh, no? I don’t feel any different.” She inhaled. The scent of the beach was still present. Jack’s wonderful aroma. A neighbor’s cat. A truck two houses down leaking oil. Her sense of smell was the same as always. “I don’t think it’s—”
The wave of nausea brought her to one knee. The world spun. Her skin turned clammy as she broke into a cold sweat.
Marie reached out for something, anything, to grab. Jack’s hand found hers, and he kept her from collapsing on the sidewalk. He steadied her, dropping to his knees, as she held his shoulder.
“Shit,” she muttered.
“Marie? What’s wrong?”
She didn’t dare speak, for fear of vomiting. She focused on breathing, counting each breath.
The last time she was truly sick was decades ago, when she was a young girl. She’d caught the flu, and missed school for a week. Her mother brought her breakfast in bed every morning, and chicken soup for lunch.
It felt worse than the flu.
“Fuck. What’s … wrong with—?”
A bead of sweat ran down her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away. Jack tenderly cradled her face with his hand. The gesture caught her by surprise, and she squeezed his hand. He put a hand to her forehead, her other cheek, her neck.
“You’re burning up.”
“Actually, I’m freezing.”
The darkness in his eyes took over.
“That fucking witch.”
In mid-breath, the symptoms vanished. In their place, an unbelievable pain took over her nose. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out the agony, but it didn’t help.
“Marie? Talk to me.”
She stood with Jack’s help. She appreciated his concern, but eased him away with a hand to the chest.
“Just … get back. Give me a sec. This is … fucking weird.”
The pain slowly went away, leaving a dull throbbing behind. Her nose felt like it had its own heartbeat.
The scents came all at once.
Every fruit. Every flower. Every spice in the kitchen cabinet. Body odor, animals, nature.
She could smell the couple having sex on their couch down the street. A squirrel chased another through the trees. A satellite dish was showing signs of early rust.
“It’s working,” she said. “I smell … everything.”
“Does everything include Skye?”
“Wait,” she said, holding up a finger as she sniffed the air. “It’s almost too much.” She rubbed her temples at the headache forming.
Jack’s wonderful scent swirled by. She couldn’t resist. She approached and sniffed him up and down, running her hands along his face and chest. His aroma was stronger, more potent. Humans and vampires took for granted how much scent fed into desire. That was a realm reserved for werewolves.
“Jack, you smell, so—”
“Okay,” he interrupted. “Now, it’s my turn. You want to back up maybe three steps? Give a little personal space? Focus. Do you smell Skye?”
It was difficult, but she shoved aside his tasty aroma. The disgusting stench of the witch came to her. Her brow furrowed as she let it settle.
“Yeah, I got her,” she said, moving to the passenger’s side. “You drive. I’ll guide.”
Jack didn’t argue.
&nbs
p; Fifteen minutes later, they were on the highway leaving town. Marie leaned her head out the open window, the wind rushing through her hair. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but it was an amazing sensation. The scent, horrific as it was, was still strong in her nose. She could track Skye clear across the state, if she had to. The scent simply wasn’t fading with distance.
Jack picked up speed, more than Marie was comfortable with.
“Uh, Jack?” she said. “You want to slow it down a little?”
“We don’t know how far away Skye is. And your meter is running. Glinda said thirty minutes.”
“That’s all great. But if we crash before we get there, that doesn’t do her any good.”
“A little crash won’t hurt you and me.”
“Damnit, would you slow the hell down?”
There was the hint of that familiar smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“I figured you’d like this. Some speed, an open window—”
“No dog jokes. Just slow—” The scent shifted. It grew fainter, weaker. “Stop!”
Jack pulled over to the shoulder. He waited for Marie to explain, and grew annoyed when she didn’t.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Marie was quiet, trying to concentrate. Did the potion wear off? She didn’t think so, as the scents were still strong around her.
“Back up,” she said.
Jack did so. Skye’s scent grew once again.
Marie turned toward the trees guarding the highway.
“They turned off,” she said. “Maybe a path?”
“Where?”
Marie stared out into the thicket. She brought her vision along to help with her nose. The darkness turned into a soft gray, and she saw tire tracks.
“There! Turn here.”
The path was narrow. Trees and branches reached out and clawed at her rental car. Jack drove slow only because he had to, and she could see it was driving him mad.
“How much further?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But her scent’s getting stronger.”
Other scents joined Skye’s. Marie had to concentrate to filter them all out. Motor oil, cigarettes, alcohol, marijuana, gasoline.
“Slow down. I think we’re here. It’s opening up.”
Damned and Cursed | Book 10 | Fallen Skye Page 28