Page 59 of Death's Daughter
“Is it just them?” I ask.
“As far as I could tell.” Devon looks uneasy with giving even that much confirmation.
It could be her. She could be the one who coerced Izzy into jumping. Or, maybe it was the two of them together. That might explain how the power was so overwhelming. When I saw them at Theta Iota, they were maybe ten feet from the Delta Pi Gamma’s yard. I didn’t see either of them during the actual event, but then again, I wasn’t looking and it wouldn’t have taken much to hide from Devon, who was distracted by what was happening to me and had obviously never noticed them before.
The idea of willingly confronting the source of the power that enveloped me so entirely makes my heart flip around in my chest, like a dog straining on its leash.
But if they hurt Izzy, then they likely also murdered Lennie, and that is not going to slide.
“Stay here,” I tell Devon, as I slide off the bed and stuff my feet into my shoes.
“They’re like us?” he asks.
“Yeah, I think so.” Standing around at five thirty in the morning in a motel parking lot alone, staring at a room, is a weird thing for anyone to do, but it makes more sense for a pair of spawn than regular old humans. “If it’s who I’m thinking of, I’ve seen thembefore. She was outside the police station and they both were across the street from the Oats.”
He processes that information. “The spawn you’ve been looking for,” he says, and it’s not a question. “What are you going to do?”
End this. Try not to die in the process.That doesn’t sound particularly confident, so I keep it to myself.
I shrug into my coat—Carter’s coat—and for a second, regret claws at me so hard I can barely breathe. Carter will never know what happened to me. Not really. Maybe that’s for the best. But I’m almost positive he’ll blame himself.
I can’t do anything to change that, though. Not now.
I edge toward the window and peer through the opening in the curtains.
The paved lot is snow-swept and dim, except for the pool of light from the one functioning street lamp near the shell of the fenced-off pool.
The woman waits, hands tucked inside her pockets, hair loose around her shoulders. Just like when I saw her before. Only this time she isn’t pretending to be lost or checking her phone.
Next to her, the kid is rocking back on his heels, impatience radiating off him. His hood is down this time, revealing a closely shorn head. But the remaining hair sticks up in tufts at various intervals, either a bad cut or a sign of his frustration—it’s impossible to know which.
Flurries of snow scuttle along the ground and in the air, whipped by the wind, but not near them. The flakes hit an invisible wall around them and vanish. It’s as if they’re enclosed in a transparent bubble.
Someone’s repelling the moisture.
Shit.One of them is Sanguine. Technically, Sanguine’s spawn are drawn to water, subsist on water, control water, in all forms. Rivers, creeks, oceans, drainpipes, whatever. However, at some point, they decided the walking water bags that are human beings were much more convenient. It’s where the vampire legends come from. It’s not the blood they’re interested in, so much as the water.
However, more critical than any of that, at this moment, is that a Sanguine spawn might still hold a grudge against me. Specifically.
“This is probably going to get messy,” I warn Devon as I start for the door.
“I’m coming with you,” he says, following me.
I glare at him over my shoulder. “No.”
“Stop me, then,” he says with a raised eyebrow.
I grit my teeth but say nothing. I should feed on him, draw his life force down, just to show him. But I can’t risk taking too much—he is still mortal—and… it goes against everything I believe in.
Even when your own life is at stake?
Apparently. Annoying, but true.
“Fine. Just… stay back.” I don’t wait to see if he agrees because, frankly, there’s nothing I can do about it if he doesn’t.
Yanking open the door, I step outside. Which is the exact moment my stomach chooses to rumble impatiently. Way to announce your own vulnerability.
I push my hand against it to stop the noise. Devon was right. I should have sought out more opportunities to feed last night, in my own way. It’s like walking into a battle with a gun and no bullets.
