“Lizzy!”
My name ended in a curse as the other varcolac cut Jimmy again. He’d heal; hell, so would I, although I kinda hoped they wouldn’t notice. So far the Nephilim didn’t know all the things I could do, and I’d like to keep it that way.
“Why would we have it?” the varcolac asked.
“You killed Rabbi Turnblat.”
He grinned. “Not me personally.”
“Then you took the key.” He shook his head; I managed to shrug without moving my chains. “Someone did. You’d better start slapping around the minions.”
For an instant, doubt flickered along with the yellow flames in the varcolac’s eyes; then he scowled. “We know you have it. The key is with the Phoenix. That is what the rabbi said.”
I had a feeling the rabbi would have said just about anything when confronted with whatever Nephilim had been sent to kill him, maybe even the truth, but—
“I don’t have it. Swear to God.”
The varcolac hissed, and I rolled my eyes. The name of God didn’t hurt them. If it did I’d be singing hymns 24–7.
“You will tell us. I will make you.” He lifted the golden knife and tried to slice my neck, but the dog collar prevented it. With a sound of annoyance, he reached for the latch.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I murmured.
He ignored me.
“Don’t!” Jimmy shouted. “She needs to have that collar on. Shit!”
I shifted my gaze. The muscle-bound varcolac had begun to hack at Jimmy in earnest. “Knock that off!” I ordered.
The varcolac nearest to me grinned. “And who will make us?”
“I might.”
He leaned closer, put his face right next to mine. “You are bound, seer. You will never be free again. You will tell us everything we want to know. You will watch us kill your ‘minion.’ ” His lip pulled back in a snarl. “Then we will satisfy ourselves on your body—all of us, and we are legion. If you are still in one piece, and this I doubt, then we will make you beg to die.” He licked my cheek, and his breath smelled of rot. “Where is the key?”
“Fuck you.”
He tried to nick my throat again—exactly what I was after. When his knife encountered my jeweled collar once more, he returned his attention to the clasp, fussed and fiddled, but eventually released it.
The breeze stilled. Jimmy murmured, “Uh-oh.”
The change came over me like a flash flood, a forest fire, a tornado—natural but deadly. The collar kept my inner nature contained. Without it, I became the new and improved me.
Not really a problem when I was killing demons. The trouble came when it was time to put the vampire back into the box. There were very few beings on this earth that were capable of it, and right now one of them was chained to the ground.
When Jimmy said, “Uh-oh” the varcolac had glanced at him; now the demon glanced back and his eyes widened. Mine must be bright red.
He tried to scramble away. Before he could, I ate his nose. He wasn’t going to need it anymore. Then I sank my fangs into his neck and drank. Nephilim blood tastes like candy, and the rush . . . pure sugar.
I tossed the varcolac aside with a flick of my head. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t moving either. I yanked my arms upward, my legs too. The stakes came out of the ground with a sifty, sandy shift, and I was free.
“Free.” What a fantastic word.
The chains flapped about—striking me here and there, making me burn. I slid my fingers between the cuffs and skin, broke them off and tossed them aside. Sure, that stung a little, but it didn’t last long enough to matter.
The varcolac leader wasn’t dead yet, an easy fix. I picked him up and yanked his head free of the rest of him. He was ashes before the two halves hit the ground.
“Who’s next?” I asked.
“You-you-you’re a vampire,” Jimmy’s captor stuttered.
“What was your first clue?”
I breathed in, relishing the fear and uncertainty. When I was like this colors were brighter, smells so much smellier, sounds reached me from miles away as if they were right next to me. I could hear blood coursing through veins, the increase in the swish-swash signaling terror. Anticipating the flavor, I licked my lips.
I was so strong I could do anything. Kill anyone. I had no conscience, no morality, not a worry in this world or any other.
“I-I-I’ll kill him.” The varcolac had the knife to Jimmy’s throat. I reached out and snatched the fool by his Adam’s apple—in this form I was so fast my movements became a blur—and tore it out with one sharp yank. The blood washed over Jimmy like a warm spring rain.
“Sheesh, Lizzy.”
I licked my fingers. “You’re welcome.”
As I turned away, what remained of the varcolac burst into ashes, the remnants sticking to Jimmy’s glistening skin like feathers on tar.
I’ll give the varcolacs credit. They didn’t run. They came at me like an army.
But they didn’t stand a chance.
CHAPTER 3