Page 15 of Endless Terrors
He grabbed my arm again, yanking me backward. Even through my coat, his grip was biting. And despite all my plans and resolutions to stay cool, keep the peace, something in me just … snapped.
I regained my footing easily, using Logan’s arm for balance to spin and pull free, leaving my coat in his hands. A chill raced over my skin, unheeded, as I took a giant step forward and aimed my keys at Logan’s eye. But this human had done some training of his own, probably a local Krav Maga class or some childhood karate, because he jerked out of the way as if he’d been expecting it. His other fist flew into my gut, winding me. Pain screamed through my body and I bent, wheezing. While I was incapacitated, Logan pinned both my arms to my sides, and I felt my spine slam into a truck behind us.
With a manic glow in his eyes, Logan bent to kiss me. I squeezed my eyes shut, screaming, and buried my nails in his flesh—somehow, I’d gotten one of my hands free. Logan shouted as I shoved his face away from mine. When he straightened, he looked like Ian O’Connell.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he hissed, holding his bleeding cheek.
It was Ian O’Connell’s voice, too. Then I blinked, and Pink Paradise was gone. Bare, spindly branches reached over my head, blocking out the moon, and I was pressed against the hard ridges of a tree. Ian leered at me, enjoying the sight of my terror, and reached for the button on my pants.
That was as far as he got.
My power roared out of me, releasing in a violent explosion. I could see it, as if my desperation had made it stronger, given it physical form. Or maybe it had been there all along. It looked like black smoke, and the tendrils burst in a dozen directions, including where Logan stood. They went down his throat and into his eyes. He made a muffled sound, probably trying to scream. His entire body jerked like he was being ripped apart on the inside. I didn’t care.
His fears were mine now.
His name was Logan Boon, and his greatest fear was mediocrity. Being mocked. Overlooked. Insignificant.
I didn’t hesitate to make him exactly that.
I tortured him with a hundred different scenarios, the sorts of moments he’d only experienced in bad dreams. The girl he’d liked in high school laughed when he asked her to the prom. His father looked at him with disappointed eyes and said, Why can’t you be more like your brother? His boss gave the promotion he’d so desperately wanted to his much taller, much more charming co-worker.
Over and over. Again and again. I hit him with image after image, and they felt as real to him as Ian O’Connell had felt to me. I kept going until I could feel Logan Boon’s bleakness, his utter belief that he was worthless and better off dead. No one would notice his absence, anyway.
Only then did I stop.
I yanked my power back, blinking rapidly. After a few seconds, the crossroads and the tree were replaced by the parking lot of Pink Paradise. Logan stood in front of me, swaying, his eyes wide and glassy. His skin was gray and his lips were blue. I couldn’t tell if he was even alive, and in that split second, it occurred to me how inconvenient it would be if he died. I swore and started toward him. I’d barely taken two steps when Logan fell to his knees so hard it sounded like his kneecaps shattered.
Then something slammed into him from the side.
It took my mind an extra second to comprehend what had happened. Yards away, a familiar figure with a head of bleached hair was hunched over Logan. The human jiggled like a rag doll from the force of Gil’s movements, and I heard the undeniable sound of flesh tearing.
“Fuck.” I bolted toward them and grabbed Gil’s arm without thinking, yanking it with all my strength—supernatural and otherwise. I almost lost my grip and slipped, but Gil didn’t even budge. He just buried his face even deeper in the hole that was Logan’s neck, and a squelching noise was the only response.
Normally, interrupting a feeding vampire was a death sentence, but this wasn’t just any vampire. Gil was my family. We may not have shared blood or DNA, but we were connected by pain, love, and all the other things that forged two souls together.
We were also connected by magic.
Seeing no other options, I closed my eyes and imagined the bond between us. Usually, I saw it as ribbons of light or bright, glowing strands. Tonight, I pictured chains. Thick, unbreakable chains. I wrapped both of my hands around them and pulled.
Gil’s neck snapped back, and his body bent as if there was actually a physical being controlling him. Logan hit the ground without any resistance. His head was detached from his body, I noted dimly. There was blood everywhere.
Worried that Gil would lose control again, I looked around, planning to get between him and the remains. He was nowhere in sight. I could still sense him, though, and I knew he was nearby. The sensations vibrating down our bond were dark and volatile.
This was bad, I thought. Someone could come out of the club any second. Luckily, an SUV hid us from view. My mind worked quickly, still in survival mode. I could fix this. I just needed to summon Lyari and get Gil—
A door slammed in the distance, and before I could react, there was the click of heels. A moment later, someone walked into view and spotted me. “Violet! You forgot your …”
It was Layla. In her small hands she held my makeup bag, which contained the gun that would’ve come in handy a few minutes ago. I witnessed the exact moment she saw Logan, or what was left of him. She trailed off and stared at the grisly scene we’d made, brows knitted together, eyes dark with disbelief. As though she was trying to decide if this was a sick, elaborate prank.
Apparently she reached the conclusion that it wasn’t, because Layla’s chest began to rise and fall in panicked gulps. She stumbled back, her heels kicking up dirt, and then she whirled. I opened my mouth to shout her name, but she was already gone. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve said, anyway. I listened to the door slam behind her, thinking that Layla had managed to surprise me again—most humans probably would’ve screamed.
Silence crowded in close, and the stifled sounds of the club reminded me of how many more people could come out.
Okay. I let out a breath. Now it was really bad.
“Lyari,” I said, bending over Logan. I wrapped my hands around his ankles and pulled, intending to drag him out of the parking lot. But I’d forgotten how muscular he was, and the asshole barely budged. How could one human be so heavy? I gritted my teeth and growled again, “Lyari.”
While I waited for my Right Hand, I refocused on Logan and braced myself. Gil wasn’t going to be any help, and Layla was probably telling someone what she’d seen at that very moment. I had to get this body moved and buy us more time. I grabbed Logan’s ankles again and leaned back to use my full weight, grunting with effort. Why couldn’t a scrawny man have stalked and attacked me?
