Page 9 of The Shade of Things
3
Damien got to his feet.“I’m going to rip your fucking heads off.”
Celeste rolled her eyes, but she didn’t make a move toward Eli and me.
Still, my life flashed before my eyes, because Damien was more than capable of following through, even if the nasal quality of his voice made it sound like he had a bad head cold.
More than one vamp smirked—though not where Damien could see it. He was like that universally disliked kid in high school whose parents had a great house and were out of town frequently. An asshole, but he’d always have people showing up at his parties.
How far would the vamps go to keep their in-crowd invites? Would they ask “How high?” if Damien said “Jump”? Ask if he’d like a platter for our heads when he threatened to rip them off?
Panicked, I threw double finger guns. “What’s shaking?”
Eli automatically reached for his real gun.
Every single vampire busted out their fangs, and the air in the room sharpened to a knife’s edge.
The only thing that saved us was the fact that Eli had left his weapon behind. He slowly and carefully moved his hands in front of him.
Celeste strode toward me with a cruel smirk. “Gather round, friends, because there’s a new cocktail flavor on tap.” The vamp pointed down at the crown of my head with both her index fingers. “Banim Shovavim! One night only!”
The undead pressed in on us. Cloaking was pointless with this many bodies; we’d never get away. We had to do this the old-fashioned way—and run.
As I reached for Eli’s hand, someone cleared their throat, and I was lifted off my feet by an iron band wrapped around my waist.
I looked over my shoulder. “Hi, Undertaker.”
After a quick glare, which was practically a kiss on the cheek from him, he hauled me up even higher using his stupidly strong arm that was snaked around my waist. “Do what you came to do and leave,” he murmured. “You have more pressing issues to attend to, and Mr. BatKian’s patience is wearing thin at your lack of progress.”
Swallowing, I nodded, but if Zev was on some deadline, he could be more forthcoming about why the clock was ticking. I wasn’t some mindless minion. That said, I had to survive tonight to get him any answers at all, and looking at the cold, pale faces surrounding us, that wasn’t going to be easy. “A little help?” I whispered.
The Undertaker raised his voice. “No one touches her. Mr. BatKian’s orders.”
After a long, tense moment, the vamps stepped back. Well, all except Damien.
“Hand her over,” the vampire ordered.
I practically pulled an Exorcist head swivel to catch Rodrigo’s reaction, and the man did not disappoint.
He raised one eyebrow, conveying exactly how many fucks he gave. “I don’t work for you.”
You could see the indecision in Damien’s eyes. On the one hand, he could force some of his cronies to attack—I doubted he was the type to launch an assault himself. On the other, Rodrigo was high up in the Zev food chain.
Damien sat back down in his big boy chair with a sneer that only intensified the impression of sinus congestion. “Keep your human plaything.”
Some of the violent current seeped out of the air.
Rodrigo set me on my feet. “Hurry up.”
I kicked out at Rodrigo, but the asshole put his hand on my forehead, literally keeping me at arm’s reach. “You mean I could have avoided creepy forests and coyotes and figuring out this hidden space existed and simply let you just waltz me in under Mr. BatKian’s protection to begin with?”
Rodrigo smirked and stepped back, while Damien clamped a possessive hand on Ian’s wrist.
The human flinched. The neckline on his shirt was torn exposing bruised skin with two puncture marks standing out in sharp relief.
Vampires didn’t need to hurt their victims to feed. In fact, they usually made it as pleasurable as possible. Either Damien wasn’t wasting compulsion energy on a mere Sapien or he was a sadist.
Either way, he had to die, but if I simply manifested Delilah with the shadow scythe, Eli and I wouldn’t make it out of here alive. Ian might not survive either.
