Chapter 4

She made her way to the back of the warehouse, broken glass cutting through the thin soles of her sneakers, changing her easy strides to tentative, pain filled ones. No place to bed down on the main floor, but past a stack of empty crates were metal stairs, leading up to a platform. The single door at the top of the stairs gave her hope. She climbed up to the platform and pushed the door open. An empty foreman’s office. Perfect. No glass. With the door closed, she’d have quiet. She’d hear anyone coming, which would give her precious seconds to either negotiate, or get ’a few drops’. Tar said they preyed on the easiest targets they could find, those least likely to be missed. She fit the bill and she couldn’t have made it easier.

Simple, really. Pray the thing that would come to kill her could be reasoned with, or that her puny self could make it bleed. Once it sired her, it wouldn’t want her dead. Tar told her that every time she’d questioned this part of our plans, but she’d had her doubts until she’d witnessed a girl’s brutal embrace in an alley. She’d followed the scarred, bent creatures from a safe distance, a skill mastered under Tar’s guidance. They were what Tar called ‘wilds’, embraces gone wrong, mindless and rabid. They couldn’t follow the sane ones because of the ease in which they blended with the masses, but the baser instincts were similar enough to learn from their brethren.

The girl hadn’t stood a chance. Within seconds she was subdued, used until she could do nothing but writhe in the puddle of her own blood and moan. The weakest of the pack was left with her pitiful remains and it leaned over her while the others licked their chops and sneered at it. Snarling, it bit a chunk of flesh from its own wrist and pressed the gushing wound to the girl’s lips. She gagged and convulsed and then went perfectly still. When her eyes opened her sire’s demeanor shifted. It snarled at the others when they came too close, tried to help the girl to her feet. In the end the pack tore the weakling and its get to shreds. The sun devoured the remains in a flash flame, but the image remained, branded in the back of her mind.

With that kind of dedication, forced through the bonds of blood, she stood a chance at finding her parents’ killers and bringing them to justice. With a recent kill plastered in the papers, the wilds would be hunted with renewed vigilance until the few that survived skulked the farthest reaches of the city, which was why she had to do this now. She didn’t want to deal with wilds, they hunted in packs and would likely rip her apart before she had a chance to react. She needed the intelligent creatures, the ones who were refined in their kills, proud of their control. Her father had even spoken fondly of some, explaining they’d found ways around killing their prey. She wish he could have met Tar, a victim of their feeding with restraint. Such neat little bites, injecting a fluid that kick started the pleasure centers of the brain. The fluid made little changes inside, and if a purer dose of the fluid wasn’t given to complete the changes, the body would begin to disintegrate.

A few drops. It became her mantra, the only thing keeping her from bolting for somewhere very public. She wouldn’t suffer like Tar, because she wouldn’t be the victim she played.

She turned her sweater inside out, used it to cover her knapsack and used both to pillow her head from the floor. Curled into a little ball in the corner of the office, she closed her eyes and listened to the lullaby of the rain drumming softly on the roof.

The stretched out squeal of the door hinges woke her. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness. Inside the warehouse, there was only the light of streetlamps filtered through one mucked up window to see by. All she could make out was the edge of the door. Still sleepy, she stood and ambled over to it.

At a slip of sound, she swung open the door, spun and squinted at the shadows. Almost black, but she could make out all four walls. With nowhere to hide. The room was empty.

Something she couldn’t see stirred the air around her, as though a large form had passed, close enough to touch. She reached out, sure her mind was playing tricks on her. Her fingers brushed cold flesh.

Choking back a scream, she turned and threw the door open. She cleared the platform, looked over her shoulder, fighting to see the unseen. She missed the first step.

Black ate her vision when she opened her eyes. Footsteps clunked on the steps behind her. She pushed up to her knees with one hand pressed to the damp floor. One arm was gone—no, limp at her side. The fall had broken her. She couldn’t stand, so she crawled. Tiny splinters of glass riddled her palms, more cut into her knees. Pain pitched deep into her bones, jarring as chalkboards raked with thick old nails.

Years of preparation, wasted. She was a chalk outline waiting to happen. Another clever cover up and she’d disappear. No one would mourn her but Toby and Tar. Hell, there’d be no funeral—the world already thought she was dead. She’d visited her parents’ graves and her marker sat next to theirs. Tar kept the clipping of her obituary in his pocket. They'd buried another girl who fit her description. Maybe she’d meet her soon.

The footsteps drew closer. Glass grated cement under thick soled boots. A grip on her arm lifted her to her feet and dragged her out of the warehouse. Sight returned and she lurched forward. Something big and strong hauled her back. Bricks ground against her spine and a big hand settled on her shoulder, at last something she could see. Blood rushed to her feet and her skin went cold. Seeing didn’t help. Seeing wouldn’t keep her alive.

There was nothing obviously different, except for the piercings all over his face. With his shaved head, the ragged heavy metal shirt and baggy jeans, he could have been any eighteen year old boy. The hint of sharp eyeteeth that peeked past his lips looked only marginally out of place, like maybe the dentist who had made the rest of his teeth look so perfect had gone crazy with the file. He looked so damn normal it threw her off. No matter what she knew to be true, she’d been prepared for a monster. Or as prepared as you can be if you’re not Buffy or one of her Super-girl descendants.

One hand braced on the wall above her head he leaned close, eyes drifting shut. She swallowed when he breathed in and closed her eyes when his tongue trailed a warm, wet path along a cut on her brow. Trembling, she pressed her eyes shut, trying to ignore how sick his licking her made her feel. He was tasting her, flicking his tongue against the edge of her lip and rolling her blood around his mouth like fine wine.

Her knees buckled and he grabbed a handful of her shirt to keep her on her feet. The material tightened against her shoulder, wrenching dislodged bone. Her involuntary cry of pain made him laugh. With the press of his body, he held her up and pushed her chin to the side to bare her neck.

The roar of a heavy engine stopped him. He sighed and turned to watch a bike pull to a stop in front of the warehouse. The scent of cloves came with the hovering exhaust.

The engine cut and the rider dismounted. “Axel.”

“Charlie.”

Her eyes snapped to the newcomer. Charlie. So this is him.

The boy, Axel, tightened his grip on her shirt when she tried to wrench free. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know why it was taking you so long to check out the property.” She watched Charlie approach as his black eyes took her in. “You could have called.”

“I got distracted.”

“I can see that.” Charlie stopped a few feet away, arms crossed so the thick muscles swelled against his wide chest, shoulder rested against the wall. “She’s in bad shape.” His eyes passed over her again. “She put up that much of a fight?”

Axel shook his head. “No. I found her in the office and she fell down the stairs trying to get away.”

“She’s a kid.”

“And?” Axel laughed, a strained sound, he was trying to sound blasé. Both were in their late teens, but there was no mistaking who was in charge. Or that the boy who held her was very afraid of the other. “Like you said, she’s in bad shape. If I’d left her, she’d have died anyway.” He went still, dropped his gaze to the street and ground his teeth. “I take it you want…”

Charlie’s lip curved. “Considering the slack I’ll get if anyone finds out? You’re damn right.”

Something passed through his eyes, a dark glow in the black depths. She found color she hadn‘t seen before. They weren’t black, they were blue, a blue so dark the color vanished in the night. She could have stared into them forever if he hadn’t moved. When he lifted his hand and ran it through his hair she watched the weight of his thick, onyx strands settle, the ends just long enough to brush the collar of his shiny black shirt. The shirt looked like silk and so did his hair. The tips of her fingers tingled with the urge to reach out and touch both, just to see if they were as soft as they looked.

He smiled and he shook his head. “Cute kid.”

Axel shrugged and moved his mouth to the curve of her throat, lips curled over his teeth, so close she could feel his breath on her neck.

Charlie patted Axel’s shoulder. “You don’t seriously think I’m taking your sloppy seconds?”

Axel dropped his hand and stepped back. “Guess not.”