Air bursts out of me. Agony races up and down my spine.
I fall.
“See, Rayne?” Vixen continues as though I never moved. “She attacks to silence me. She knows I’m telling the truth.”
Great heaving breaths. Nausea bubbles through me. Still I force the words out. “You…bit…Pippa.”
“I sought sustenance to heal an injury inflicted by your comrades.”
My back, open and unguarded, slams into the wall. She holds me there, forearm across my throat, free hand pinning my wrist to the brickwork. She twists. Bones crunch. The axe clatters to the ground.
“Come, my little raindrop.” Though her gaze never leaves mine, I know she’s speaking to Rayne. “You must be hungry. Join me for a family meal.”
Fangs pierce skin below my right ear, white-hot needles digging into my flesh.
My body writhes. Can’t stop the hot stream of piss running down my leg.
Is this what it feels like to die?
Vixen moans against me, pulling back to lick at her teeth marks. “So sweet, Agent Karson. I’ll make you last for hours yet. Come, Rayne. Join me.”
My lips move. No sound.
Fangs in my throat again, the other side this time. Sucking, pleasured moans, and the horrifying sensation of my lifeblood draining away.
Perhaps it won’t be so bad. Perhaps it’s better to go in the line of duty like this. Mum will get some sort of payout, and without me around to upset her, maybe she’ll be happy again. After a while.
Warm now.
Never thought dying would feel like a comforting bath.
Rayne moves closer. Stares deep into my eyes. “Vixen…”
Fire in my lungs.
“Yes, my treasure?”
Pounding in my ears.
Rayne looks away. “Goodbye.”
Vixen gasps. Her mouth jerks open against my throat. Fangs slide away.
Pressure fades. Pain sings through me.
I drop, vision spinning, shoulder throbbing.
“So you’ve made your choice?” Vixen leaves me to face Rayne. No softness in her voice now, no tenderness, just raw, bitter fury.
My axes protrudes from her back. Half the blade has vanished into her flesh, but still she’s moving, standing, talking, fighting.
Why won’t this bitch die?
Rayne’s hands fly to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I had to. I had to.” She’s gasping. Crying. Begging.
Vixen reaches round and yanks the axe out of her back. Drops it.
Near my fingers.
I touch the shaft. Remember the comforting weight in my hands. The power. The strength.
My fingers close over the soft leather.
I’m standing, not sure how, and I can see Vixen. The golden halo of her hair is mussed up and tangled.
“Hey!” I yell. Try to. The word is a strangled groan.
She turns, fury stamped on her features.
I swing the axe.
The blade whistles as it cuts the air, a call of defiance I echo with a shriek of my own.
The edge bites her throat. Shears through.
Black blood jets into the air, propelling her snarling head across the alley. It lands near the bins, lips still moving, eyes still blinking.
The body shudders, then drops like a puppet, jerking and twitching.
My knees fold. Axe slips away from limp fingers.
I chuckle, a weird hiccuping sound through gasps of relief. “Heal that, bitch.”
Rayne crouches in front of me. She’s crying. And smiling.
“We need to go,” she whispers.
I want to lie down. I’m tired. Why am I so tired?
“You need to get to Pippa.”
The fatigue clears with a snap. Swirling dizziness vanishes.
Pippa. Oh fuck, Pip.
I scramble up. Leave the axe. Leave Vixen. Leave Rayne.
Back into the tunnel, back to my sister.
* * *
The holding area with all those cells is empty. Slick piles of black ooze mark the final resting places of several vampires, while bullet casings and empty incense bomb capsules litter the floor. Blood too. Lots of it, and a smell that takes me back to the crematorium where we last saw Dad.
Rayne clears her throat. “Everyone is upstairs.”
“How do you…? Vampire.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Do you need help?”
It would be so easy in that moment to let her take my arm or even carry me.
“Not from you.” I keep walking, though not before I catch sight of the agony in her eyes.
Upstairs, the security office and dance floor are empty. More signs of fighting here, both from the werewolves and SPEAR. More bullet casings, traces of silver nitrate, and the glittering links of broken chain scattered across the tiles.
Through the slicks of blood, twin tracks surrounded by smudged footprints lead to the exit.
Wheels.
A gurney?
I move faster.
Outside, swirling blue lights top three ambulances, two police cars, and four SPEAR vehicles.
Curious onlookers press close to a line of police tape. Many point when I exit the club, others screaming when they see Rayne.
Uniformed officers approach from all sides, so I toss my gun and raise my hands.
“Turn around. Slowly. Lace your fingers behind your head and get on your knees.”
I obey, pausing halfway when a sharp voice cuts overhead, saying, “Idiota, she’s one of us.”
Something in my chest gives a little skip. “Noel? You’re alive?”
“Mostly, guapa. I said, leave her alone.”
“It’s okay, I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. Fuck the rules, fuck these idiots, and fuck Quinn for suspending you. You are one of us. Now, you miserable civvie bashers, get the hell away from my fellow agent.”
“What about her?” They point to Rayne.
“She’s with us too. Now do your jobs and keep those crowds back.”
The officers clear out, muttering.
Finally I see Noel. He lies on a gurney, with two paramedics at his head, testing, bandaging, injecting.
He doesn’t speak, just points to the ambulance on the left.
Pippa isn’t moving when I reach her. The paramedics swarming around her move like ants, busy and tense, quick and efficient.
My heart is in my throat. I can taste my pulse.
They bundle her into the back of the ambulance and slam the doors.
“Wait. I’m coming too.”
One figure, pushing a penlight back into his pocket, looks me up and down. “And you are?”
“Her sister. Please, I can’t leave her.”
“We need to go. Like, five minutes ago.” This voice comes from the driver who leans out of her window with a scowl. “Get a move on.”
I open the doors.
The paramedic lays a hand on my arm, then jerks it back at a rippling snarl from Rayne.
Climb in. Sit.
Rayne follows, not speaking, just watching, silent and thoughtful.
“Get out. Get out now.”
“There’s no time.” Again the driver. “If we’re saving her, we leave now.”
Rayne stares.
I sigh. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Something’s beeping. It’s loud. Shrill.
I look left, right, searching for clues in the expressions of the paramedics who leap into action beside me. One holds a bag of some clear fluid, a tube at its base already linked to a needle inserted in the back of Pippa’s hand. The other one checks her pulse against his watch. He swears and starts a series of breaths and compressions.
No. No, no, no, please, not Pippa. Not my little sister.
Fuck, the baby.
Tears are hot on my cheeks as I watch them work, and I find myself praying, something I’ve not done since Dad died. I pray, not knowing who, if anyone, is listening, and the words pour from my mouth.
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“Please, don’t die, Pip. Not you, please, not you. You’ve got to be okay. You’re going to live through this, just hang on a little longer. Please, Pip. Please, please, please.”
The paramedics count softly, eight chest compressions followed by three deep breaths.
Still she doesn’t move.
The beeping continues.
“Please, Pip. You can’t leave me. Don’t die. Please, don’t die.”
The compressions become more urgent. Faster.
“We’re losing her.”
“No, you’re not. Keep trying. Don’t let her die.”
The ambulance takes a corner and throws me into Rayne’s arms. She sets me back on my feet and shuts her eyes, head cocked to one side.
“Okay, zap her. Let’s go.”
They’re moving around, pulling out wires, paddles, sticky skin patches. The heart monitor beneath a shelf of bandages flares to life.
They rip her blouse. Squirt contact gel onto her chest. The paddles.
“Clear.”
Pippa’s body jerks high, then drops.
Blip. Blip. Green line.
“Clear.”
Spasm. Stillness.
“More. And three, two, one. Clear.”
I can’t see. Someone’s holding me but I don’t know who. I want to talk, beg, but the words are stuck in my throat. They taste bitter and my body locks with panic and pain.
“Please. Please, Pip.”
“Clear.”
Blip. Green line.
Nothing.
Another corner.
“Again?”
“No, she’s gone.” A sigh. “Log it, will you? Time of death oh-six thirty-eight.”
The sirens stop wailing.
“No!” I hurl myself forward, over Pippa, gazing at her beautiful, beautiful face. “Pippa? Pippa, please, you can’t be dead. Please!”
“Miss, you need to stay sitting. Miss?”
Strong, urgent hands shove me back into the little seat near the door.
Pen scratching on paper. Soft whispers. Footsteps. Cloth rustling.
I lower my face to my hands and sob like I never have before.
Not Pippa. Not my sweet, loving sister. Not Pip.
“What are you—No! Stop that. You can’t. Stop right now.”
I peer through my fingers.
Rayne stands over Pippa. Her right arm is stretched above Pippa’s mouth which she holds open with her left hand. Shiny red droplets stream from her wrist to splash against Pippa’s lips.
Heat darts across my face and neck. I’m up again, pushing, kicking, clawing, punching. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare do this. Not to my sister. Not to Pip.”
She doesn’t even struggle. My charge slams her into the side of the ambulance and dislodges a shelf of boxes. They spill around us, blister packs and foil packets scattering across the floor. A stethoscope drops across my shoulder. Saline rains from a burst packet.
“Bitch!” I’m crying now. “You monster. You fucking crazy fanger. You won’t make her like you. Not Pip, not like you. I’ll cut your fucking head off, I swear on my human soul.”
Rayne strokes my cheek.
I freeze.
The two paramedics smear themselves against the far wall. Both are pale and shaken.
“It’s the only way,” says Rayne.
I grasp two fistfuls of her clothes. “To what?”
“For you to not be lonely.”
Buzzing in my ears. Blankness.
I slump against the gurney, the fight finally gone.
Vixen may be dead, but the damage she’s done will last forever. She won after all.
My vision blurs. “She can’t be a vampire. She can’t be like—”
“Me?”
I bite my lip. “You’re evil.”
She looks away. “True. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
The words are a knife and I gasp as they stab deep. “You don’t know me. You don’t feel—how can you? You’re a dead, soulless monster who drinks blood and pretends to live.”
Her shoulders lift towards her ears. “I know. But I still fe—”
“Fuck you!” My voice cracks, but I scream it again. And again. Again. “This is the last pure thing left in my life and you’ve destroyed it.”
“No.” Her voice hardens. “No more, Danika. Either you care for me too and you’re hurting because you thought I lied, or you accept that I’m a vampire and incapable of feeling like all the others. You can’t have it both ways any more.”
Something beeps. Not the high, sharp sound of the heart monitor, but something smaller. Closer.
My watch.
Can it really be that close to sunup? Have we really been doing this all night?
Rayne shuffles closer. When she snags my hands, I tug them away, but she tries again, and again, until I’m just too tired to pull away. She squeezes my fingers.
“Am I like all the others?”
“Yes,” I snap.
“Really?” She’s staring again, that warm, loving look. The one filled with fire, passion, and longing. Her soul is naked in that look. “Do you honestly believe that?”
I stare at our intertwined fingers, my dark ones against her pale ones. “You told them that I was nothing. Worthless.”
She sighs. “The moment we went through that door we couldn’t win. Giving Noel a chance to call in support was the only thing I could think of.”
“You were pretty convincing.”
“I had to be, or they would have killed us all. I couldn’t let that happen.”
My shoulders drop. “But Pippa…”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“Oh, Christ!” One of the paramedics leaps back.
I turn.
My chest constricts.
Pippa is sitting up. Staring. Breathing. Living.
Fangs gleam between her bloodied lips. Bright silver light flashes in her eyes.
Rayne shoves me behind her, arms outstretched. “No.” Her voice is clear and strong, the sharp command of a teacher to a student. Parent to a child. A queen to her progeny.
“I smell…” Pippa’s voice is soft and dreamy, like her own, but not. “It’s sweet…Is it food?”
“Yes. But you need to wait.”
“I’m hungry.”
A small squeak from the paramedics pulls Pippa’s attention towards them. She scrambles off the gurney, a desperate lunge packed with speed.
Shouts and cries of panic fill the back of the ambulance. The vehicle takes another sharp turn, feels like a U-turn, and sirens blare to life once more.
The heart monitor tumbles over. The overhead light dims.
“Pippa, please.”
Her head whips round. Lips draw back off sharp teeth.
Rayne shifts to stay ahead of me. “Don’t—”
I push past. “Pip? It’s Danika. You know me, don’t you?”
She scrambles in close to sniff my face. My hair. My throat. Her tongue flicks out to catch the dried flakes choking Vixen’s bite marks on the side of my neck.
I clench my fists and force myself to stand still.
This is my sister, she won’t hurt me. I have to believe that. I have to believe she can be different. Like Rayne.
“Dani?” Her voice rasps. The silver in her eyes flickers then fades. “What’s happening? Why do you smell like that?”
Tears. Can barely see through the blur. “You need to listen very carefully.”
Rayne shifts into a ready position on my right, eyes that beautiful shade of ripe acorns. With her fangs at rest, she is calm and as much in control as I’ve ever seen her.
She’s different. Pippa can be too. Please…
“Pip, something really bad happened, and you’ll feel different for a few days. But you’re going to be fine, I promise. We’ll get through this together, like always.”
She bites her lip and winces as fangs cut through. “What? How did this…my teeth…? Oh God—Dani, I’m a vampir
e, aren’t I? Oh God…oh no, no, no, no—”
“Pippa.” I grab her shoulders and shake them. “Try to stay calm.”
“I can smell you,” she wails. “I hear waves, but it’s the blood in your body. I want it—I’m so hungry.”
I shove my wrist beneath her nose. “Then drink.”
“No—”
“Shut up, Rayne!” I don’t look at her. If I do, my rational mind will kick in and tell me that I’m doing something supremely stupid. “Drink, Pippa. Please.”
The fight is in her eyes. Morals versus hunger. Right versus wrong. Human versus vampire.
The victor of the battle springs forward with the return of silver light in her eyes. She grabs my hand and bites on the wrist, rough, hard, and desperate.
The pain fires up my arm and straight through, so much worse than Vixen’s bite. The creeping weakness swells fast, and there’s no stopping my limp slide to the floor of the ambulance. Pippa never once releases my arm, sucking hard, gulping me down. Killing me.
Dark edges consume the corners of my vision.
Through it, Rayne whispers urgently to Pippa. She tugs her shoulders, pulls her by the waist, but the grip on my wrist never falters.
It’s that warm bath again. Deeper this time. Hotter.
Then a sensation like flying. My body is light and airy, while the colours turn bright, fizzing with iridescent sparkles.
So this is the feeling Jack chases each time he offers his throat.
I understand now.
I smile, closing my eyes for the last time while the siren drones on and on.
Chapter Thirty-four
Comfortable. Soft.
Where am I? The stuff around me feels like a cloud, so light and warm.
Cosy. Safe.
Someone’s talking, in urgent whispers. Two people talking. No, arguing.
I frown, pissed that someone would bring their argument into this pleasant space.
“Can’t stop me seeing her. I want to know she’s okay.”
Okay, that voice I know. From work? TV?
I flex my fingers, aware for the first time that my eyes are closed.
Damn.
So I’ve been asleep? And this warm safe place is…where? Not my flat; it smells better and the sheets aren’t crisp with a week’s worth of sweat.
I realize then, that if I want to know where I am, I’ll have to open my eyes.
“You can’t stop me, so move before I report you. What’s your name?”
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