by Anna Sanders
The digs weren’t so impressive to Winx. She’d seen many a luxury hotel in her time, but they were in a family-owned B&B. If Mother Goose opened a boarding house, this would be it.
Their room itself was a patchwork quilt of color. Signature teapots decorated shelves alongside porcelain figurines. A large cloud of a bed took up most of the space, and a tasteful Rococo-style table with matching chairs stood by the window. A gilded console with two drawers sat beside the bed. There was no television to speak of, and the bathroom was minimal.
Winx and Keaton set their things alongside the bed without a word. The table held two Styrofoam boxes with bottled juice, and one inhale told her it was the breakfast that London had promised them.
Sitting across from each other to eat made avoiding eye contact difficult. It was funny seeing Keaton try to ignore her, but they couldn’t continue on like this forever.
Winx flipped the lid on her breakfast and took a bite of well-seasoned eggs. “Don’t you have something you want to tell me?” she asked after swallowing.
“Not precisely.” He buttered a piece of toast and put the entire piece into his mouth.
Oh, he was going to play that game, was he? Winx crossed her legs slowly and gave him an intent glare. “You knew who London Iragall was, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, still chewing, he cut into a pancake with precise strikes of his knife.
“You knew who he was because you’ve met him at some point,” Winx continued. “Did you meet him before or after you barged into my nightclub?” She was trying to read him, but cryptids were hard. All she could get were impressions of his mood. He was overwhelmed with despair at the plight of his family, but that was no surprise. Where his guilt was coming from, on the other hand, Winx had no idea.
Keaton shook his head, refusing to speak. He took a swig of his orange juice. Winx watched his Adam’s apple bob as he chugged.
“I already know that a lixyn told Ottanu where to look for me. And that lixyn had connections to Chavez,” Winx said. “I knew I was being watched by someone, but I had no reason to think it was Iragall. I was never safe, was I? Iragall knew where I was, and he made sure that you did, too.”
Keaton finished his drink and started in on the pancake again. He stuffed his face full until his cheeks bulged out. It was getting to the point that he wasn’t able to chew.
Winx’s laughter bubbled in her chest, which was odd because she was still brimming with anger, too. “You can’t keep this up all day. Eventually, you’re going to run out of food to put into your mouth.”
He gave her a look and shook his head. He had a sausage link in his hand and looked like he was deciding where it would fit best.
She leaned toward him. “When did you see London? Was it when you came into LA? Or was it when we went to that restaurant, and you told me your sob story?”
Keaton’s eyes went wide. And then he started to choke. A hard cough rumbled through his chest, causing the partially-chewed flapjack to fly from his mouth and onto the table. Hacking overtook him, and his jerky motions bumped the table and spilled his orange juice onto his lap.
When Keaton stood, showing a thoroughly drenched crotch, it was too much. Winx began to giggle. A second later, the giggles turned into hard chortles. And from there, a loud belly laugh had her throwing her head back, almost falling off the chair. Keaton was trying to catch his breath, but he smiled a bit.
Winx wiped at her eyes with an unsteady hand and slumped against the table. When she saw the pancake pieces acting as a centerpiece, she laughed again. “That’s so disgusting.”
“I got it.” He unleashed one of his napkins and dragged the food to his side of the table.
They were silent after that, but it wasn’t nearly as tense.
Genevieve was very happy to be out of that car. Very happy indeed. All of the traveling had worn her down—she was not built for this kind of life.
With a dainty hop, she perched on the chair, facing her massive breakfast. She had quite an appetite even when not fighting off the scourge, but it was even bigger after her recent trials.
Taking up her knife and fork, she cut into a sausage patty and gifted herself with the pleasure of a hearty mouthful. “Mm hmm. Delicious.”
There was barely the space of a bite between her fork scrapping against the plates to transfer the perfectly prepared meal to voracious mouth. Who knew the next time she would be able to gorge? Real food would become scarce when she returned to the road.
Speaking of water, she searched the table for something to drink. The food was making her thirsty. With a sigh of delight, she reached her hand out for a carafe decorated with designs imitating air, the icon of her flying lands. Inside, she knew there would be fruity wine like she had back home.
As she poured the wine, the lovely blushing liquid brought instant memories of her missed palace life. Genevieve raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip.
Perfect. Simply perfect.
They would most likely be at the B&B for at least another day, so Genevieve felt no remorse in finishing her glass and pouring a new one. The wine was usually watered down back home, probably so everyone attending the royal dinners would keep their wits about them. But this sample was quite potent—in fact, she could already feel it pooling in her belly.
A lethargic smile spread over her cheeks. What was the harm? Maybe this was just what she needed after all of the death she had witnessed.
Genevieve went back to her food, but everything began to grow fuzzier; the platters of eggs, bread, and meats were a blur before her. Blinking rapidly helped nothing straighten. Her fingertips were going numb, and she dropped the carafe into her lap. She giggled a bit at her clumsiness and lifted it only to find that she had emptied the bottle. Silly her.
Standing with a yawn, she started to walk toward her bed, but she barely took a step before she lost her footing and landed on her knees. Genevieve laughed again. Wow. She had really overdone it. Perhaps she should have asked for a pitcher of water in order to temper the wine.
Her eyes slid in the direction of the bathroom. Maybe she should make use of the sink in there. A good gulp of water might brace her enough to at least get a grip.
The problem was, she couldn’t walk. Every time she tried to draw herself up from the floor, she would merely slump back down. When it became apparent that her muscles weren’t going to get her anywhere, she was already sliding her eyes shut. A nap on the floor would not be proper, not where there was a perfectly sound bed…
She passed out.
Less than five minutes later, the door to Genevieve’s room evenly slid open. Roy Ardess stood there, his eyes quickly taking in the scene. “It worked, sir. The princess sleeps.”
“Good.” London Iragall walked up alongside his companion with a hand to his shoulder. “Let’s get her back where she belongs before the others notice.”
CHAPTER 2
Keaton couldn’t rest, so he spent the morning staring at the grounds from the balcony of their room. How could he trust the eradication forces? If the only reason they hadn’t helped his pack for all of this time was because they hadn’t been ordered, what kind of heroes could they be?
He covered his eyes with shaking palms. How he had let them down: his mother, his father, Ottanu, even Stori, though she had left with him willingly. The opportunity to make amends could not be out of his reach. Somehow, he had to show them his devotion. And if that meant turning his back on Winx, then so be it.
Keaton’s gaze slid over to where Winx slept, shrouded in bedding. Her feet poked over the edge of the mattress, and it was the only part of her that didn’t seem bruised. Underneath an arm draped over her eyes, he could make out the curve of her thick bottom lip and the dainty point of her chin.
He’d wanted her ever he’d seen her dancing as one of the premiere showgirls at Skinned. She spilled sexuality with every breath. Keaton’s eyes languidly slid shut, and he remembered her glossy black skin gleaming as she swaye
d in the strobe-lit playroom.
It was in her nature, he reminded himself. Those with the dark touch were commonly known for being able to hypnotize humans and cryptids alike. Winx was no different.
In the end, it would never work. Winx had said so herself when they’d been searching the woods for his pack.
You’ll never stop thinking about her, a betraying voice sang in his head. Nobody has ever been like Winx, and you know it.
Pacing was getting him nowhere. Perhaps they needed to sleep, but Keaton was in need of some action.
The courtyard was barely more than six feet below. Once he was sure the grounds were deserted, Keaton hopped over the balcony railing and landed with a soft thud on all fours. His long braid slapped his back when he began to sprint, and he sniffed the air in search of his quarry. There had to be savages around somewhere.
The morning streets of Gunnison were bustling with people. Each one of them had the potential to become a savage. All it took was a car accident, or a brutal rape, or a homicide, and they would roam the earth as brainless killing machines. The same killing machines that had destroyed Keaton’s way of life.
Before long, he had to slow down to a stroll. He wasn’t finding any evidence of savage activity, and searching had drained his anger and energy. He stopped at a light post and leaned heavily against it.
“Mommy, Mommy,” a little girl screeched as she passed by. “Look at his teeth! Are they real?”
“No, Mallory. People don’t have fangs.”
“But Mommy! His eyes!”
“Mallory, it’s impolite to stare. Come on!”
Keaton blearily looked in their direction without real concern. His head was so foggy. So much had happened recently. The attacks. The deaths. The destruction of his home…
A hand stiffly wrapped around his upper arm. Keaton jerked from the contact and turned to see who had found him here.
Big green eyes met his. The sandy-haired newcomer was shorter than him, and her face was too cute to be intimidating. Even though she was glaring.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the girl whispered harshly.
Keaton’s glower lessened. His brows rose almost comically. “Sabrina?”
Sabrina Chase was a bandit like Keaton, and she was someone he’d come to know quite well over the years. Though their packs didn’t mingle, the two of them had become well acquainted.
And she’d found him falling asleep against a grimy lamppost.
“You’re breaking laws right now!” she hissed. “Revealing yourself like this? What are you thinking?”
Keaton was about to argue until Sabrina pointedly lifted his upper lip with her finger and let it flap against his fangs. He sucked in a shocked breath. He hadn’t even noticed. When was the last time he had lost control in a public place?
“What are you doing here?” he growled. He shook his head to clear it of fogginess, and as he did so, his features returned to composed and normal.
“Not making a spectacle of myself.” Sabrina kept her grip on his arm and began to lead him away. “Come with me. I’ll give you shelter.”
Once upon a time, he would have willingly taken that offer. Sabrina wasn’t only attractive and good in bed; she was witty and fun. Being with her had been the closest thing to a relationship that he’d ever had. But the bandits mixing packs was always had the problem of where their loyalties fell, and that hadn’t changed.
“Wait.” He tugged his arm from her hold. “I can’t go with you.”
“Your pack. They’re gone, aren’t they?”
The accusation pulled at Keaton. “How would you know that?”
“You aren’t the only one who lost their family.”
So Sabrina was alone too. The smile that usually frequented her mouth had disappeared.
“What happened?” he asked.
She touched his chest, right over his heart. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
Keaton looked over his shoulder, as if he could feel eyes on him. Then he looked back at her. The decision was a hard one.
“Please,” she said again, tugging his arm in her direction.
Powerless to his curiosity, he followed.
Darkness descended over the city. The owner of the B&B, a Doug Yertz, had yet to leave his office. His brow furrowed as he eyeballed the paperwork littering his desk until the picture of his family caught his eye. He smiled with a trace of longing and ran a finger along the edge of the frame.
A small black-and-white television to his right went fuzzy. Doug rapped the top sharply with his fist, but it did no good. When he slapped harder, the screen went dark altogether. Doug huffed in frustration and looked back down at his ledger.
Without the distraction of the TV, other sounds in the night grabbed Doug’s attention. He got up to look out his office window, but there was nothing in sight.
The jangle of the front door bells echoed around the foyer.
Doug froze. He peered out the double doors of his office and to the hall.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
There was no answer, but he could see the outline of someone standing beside the door. Doug finished putting on his coat and walked toward the front desk with a fake smile pasted to his face. “Welcome. Are you looking for a room?”
No reply.
Doug stayed behind the counter. “Sir? Or…ma’am? Is everything all right, or—”
“Do you have guests currently in your establishment?”
“Our services are available year-round.” Doug paused. “If you’re concerned about disturbances from other guests, our walls provide each customer with as much privacy as possible.”
“I’m searching for specific persons staying in your boarding house. Do you have a Winx Rowan currently residing here?”
Doug remained hesitant. “Are you a cop? Because if you’re looking for someone, I’ll have to see some ID.”
As the man looked up, Doug could just make out the crest of his smile. “You seem like an intelligent man, so I’ll make this clear. Tell me what I want to know, or say goodbye to your business.”
“I suggest you leave, or I’ll call the police.”
He laughed loudly. “You think I fear law enforcement? I could rip out your throat before dispatch contacted them.”
Doug fumbled for his gun, but once drawn, he held it steady. “Get out of here. Now.”
The intruder lifted a hand and opened the door. “Very well. I didn’t realize that was your play. You’ll know my next move soon enough.”
He slipped outside, and the room went silent as if no one had ever been there.
Doug hurried to the front door and locked every deadbolt. Then he rushed back to his desk and picked up the phone. He punched the first button repeatedly, but no service was available. He took out his cell phone instead.
Before he could finish dialing, a crash echoed from the office behind him. Glass spattered from the entryway. Doug ran straight for the front door, and he tugged at the handles twice before remembering that he needed to unlock it.
Doug looked over his shoulder to the adversaries making their unsteady way inside. They were unmindful to the injuries sustained from crashing into the glass. They didn’t look… alive.
He wrenched the front door open only to come face-to-face with the same creatures pouring into his office.
The owner didn’t last long after that.
CHAPTER 3
Though Winx’s mind had been restless with fears, she somehow managed to sleep. She woke up to find that the room was dark, the clock said it was nine o’clock at night, and she was still exhausted.
As her eyes adjusted, she searched for Keaton. He wasn’t on the floor, or in bed with her, and it didn’t look like anyone was in the bathroom. She frowned. Where would Keaton have gone? She seriously doubted that he would have felt in the mood to visit with the lixyns down the hall.
But then again, who was she to check up on Keaton? He’d made it clear that he was only trying to help his pac
k and nothing more. She couldn’t blame him. If it were a choice of hanging around lixyns or getting back to her clan, she knew damn well what her decision would be. And to hell with the so-called consequences.
Winx pressed the heel of her hand against her brow, surprised that her headache was gone. Funny. Perhaps those pain pills were finally kicking in. A quick check revealed that, even though most of her injuries were numbing down, she was still far from the definition of good health. Too bad she couldn’t heal like Genevieve. She’d jump back into the action with a steel jaw.
For now, Winx slid beneath the covers with a lazy sigh.
Several minutes passed, but sleep eluded her. Damn, where the hell was Keaton? Attempting to not worry about him wasn’t working. And the effort became even more useless when she noticed the sounds. Scuffling feet. Harried breathing. Bodies brushing against each other back and forth… and then glass smashing somewhere downstairs.
Winx shot out of bed.
No. Anything but this.
It was so clear now. She could feel the savages. They tore into the hotel with the vengeance of the hungry. They sniffed about the halls and made their way unsteadily up the stairs.
They were coming.
A horrible scream echoed from downstairs. Her already thudding heartbeat seized.
Someone had just died.
Quickly dressing, Winx quietly walked barefoot to the door of her room. Opening it was the last thing she wanted to do, but the locks wouldn’t keep for long. Not with how many savages she could sense coming up the stairwell.
They were still a ways off yet. Slow creatures.
With light footsteps, she padded down the hall toward the other rooms. Genevieve’s door was close by, thankfully, and she nudged it open in lieu of knocking.
Surprisingly, it was already unlocked. Even more surprising than that, Genevieve was gone. Her mostly eaten breakfast was the only sign that there had been anyone in the quarters.
Winx invented some lurid curse words before backing out of her room and heading toward London’s. His room was a level higher than theirs, which meant more space between her and the stench advancing up the stairs. Once she made it onto the new landing, she ran to his door and pounded feverishly.