With a surge of adrenaline, I ready the stake in my hand, shoot back the deadbolt, and throw open the door.
There is no one on the porch. I jump out, madly looking around, and silently shut the door behind me. A band of thick fog rolls through the yard, momentarily encasing me in white. The air is humid, chilly yet thick to breathe in. I take in everything around me.
The unnatural stillness in the air.
The lack of birds chirping.
And the lingering smell of sulfur in the air.
The sound of a car moving down the road echoes through the fog. Yeah, people do drive up and down the road to get to their houses, but I’m not taking any chances. With a quick glance at Thomas and Gilbert, I slip from the porch, keeping the stake slightly raised at my side.
It’s not sunset yet. Vampires can’t be lurking. But my spider-sense is tingling and a weird part of me wants them to be here. I want to look the sire in the eyes when I shove the stake through his nonbeating heart. I want to tell him the names of everyone he’s killed and let him know this is their revenge.
They don’t have a voice anymore, but I do. And I will shout it loud until every last vampire I can get my hands on is dead and gone.
Silently, I move down the cobblestone path. Trees block the road from direct sight, hiding the house from anyone driving by. It was done to hide the gargoyles, I’m sure, keeping this house as private as possible with the new developments going up around it. The car is getting closer and closer, going slowly in the fog.
I can still feel eyes on me, and I desperately want to know where it’s coming from. I pause at the end of the cobblestone path, breathing in the fresh scent of earth around me. No matter where I turn, it feels like someone is behind me. Suddenly, the air becomes electric and static crackles at my fingertips.
I hold up my hand, heat spreading through my palm. It’s hot. Hot enough to burn me. The heat registers but doesn’t hurt. It’s the strangest sensation and I cannot explain it. I look at my hand, willing it to ignite again.
The car drives past and I step into the driveway, looking around the trees. Squinting, I can make out taillights down the road, and it looks like a truck, not a car. I let out a breath and go back to the house, coming to a dead stop when I get to the porch.
The door is open.
I know for fucking sure I had closed it.
24
I freeze, staring at the front door. It’s cracked open not even an inch. There’s no way someone got in. I was only yards from the house. The porch creaks. I would have heard it, wouldn’t I?
Fuck. I might not have.
Closing my hand into a fist, I channel energy down to it, and the heat comes back, but it’s not enough to start the fire. Heart in my throat, I put one foot on the first stone step to the porch, eyes on the house. Thomas and Gilbert are on either side of me, but they’re frozen, cast in stone, and won’t wake up until the sun sinks below the horizon.
I swallow hard and go up another step, then move onto the porch, careful where I put my feet. The boards closest to the house creak the most. Stopping a few feet away from the door, I nudge it open with my foot and step aside, back against the house. I steal a glance behind me, playing all angles of an attack.
Distract me with the open door.
Grab me from behind.
No one rushes forward from inside the house.
No one comes up behind me.
I wait another beat and rub my thumb over my fingers as if it’ll strike some sort of magical match and ignite the fire. Something sparks at my fingertips and I jerk my head down to look at it.
Someone runs through the house, footsteps reverberating through the large, two-story foyer. I look back up and see a shadow of a man move across the balcony. I push the door open and run in.
“Hey!” I shout, and race to the stairs, eyes madly darting around. Where the hell did he go? Dammit. This house is too fucking big. I stop on the landing upstairs. I don’t know this house well enough yet. Some floorboards creak. Some don’t. A few of the rooms are interconnected, making it easy to slip inside one and move down the hall, emerging from a completely different room altogether. I turn away from the master bedroom and take a few steps down the hall.
Most of the doors up here are closed, making the hall dark. The light is fading fast outside, and the fog wraps the house in a dim and eerie blanket of muted gray. I blink rapidly, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dark.
If whoever is here came in to rob me, they’re going to be sorely disappointed. I pull my gun from my holster and stick the wooden stake in it instead. It’s not the steadiest, but it’ll do. For now.
Flicking off the safety, I raise my weapon and advance down the hall. The familiar feel of my M9 in my hand gives me a bit of confidence. I’m an officer of the law and I’m going to catch and arrest the person who broke into my house.
Because that’s what they are. A person.
It’s not night yet. It can’t be vampires.
The floor creaks behind me and I feel hot breath on the back of my neck. I whirl around, ready to pull the trigger.
But no one is there.
My heart lurches, beating faster and faster. That bad feeling comes back, and all ten of my fingertips buzz with electricity. Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echo through the house. Someone is running down the back stairs.
I jolt forward, moving down the curved front stairs, and race into the kitchen. The back door is wide open and fog moves into the house. Not wasting time, I run out. If I move fast enough, I can catch the fucker.
Leaping from the porch, I land hard on the soggy ground, sending a shock to my ankles and making the dull ache in my previously twisted ankle come back. Ignoring the pain, I keep going, narrowing my eyes to try and see in this fucking fog. Something moves behind the shed. I go to it, moving to the other side to head them off.
Holding my breath, I keep the gun steady in my hand and inch around. The smell of sulfur lingers in the air, clinging to the thickness of the fog. I wrinkle my nose and get hit with a sudden memory of finding my parents lifeless on the kitchen floor.
I blink it away. I don’t let myself think about that day, especially not now.
Mud sticks to my shoes as I move, and I lower my gaze to look for footprints. The grass is overgrown around the shed and is pushed down from someone walking. Taking a deep breath, I jump out, ready to confront whoever is on the other side.
There’s no one there. My heart is racing and the feeling of being watched weighs down on me so heavily it’s oppressive. And then someone jumps down from the roof of the shed. I move out of the way at the last second, but not without tripping over a tangle of dandelions. The wooden stake falls from the holster.
Scrambling back, I kick the guy hard in the shin. He stumbles, but hardly reacts to the pain. I crawl back on my elbows and raise my gun.
“Freeze or I’ll shoot,” I threaten, and move back more. The guy takes his time advancing, as if he already knows I’m fucked.
But he doesn’t know me. I plant my hand on the ground, wait for him to take another step, then sweep my legs out, knocking his out from underneath him. He goes down hard and I get up, pointing the gun at his face.
“Who are you?” I demand. “What are you doing here?”
“I think you know the answer to that already, love,” he says, voice velvety smooth with a faint accent.
“Enlighten me and maybe we’ll go easy on your sentencing.”
“You think you’re going to live past tonight? Cute.” He starts to sit up and I push the gun into his face. He tips his head up to mine and inhales deeply. “They were right. You do smell delicious. I’m not supposed to touch you, but I might have to taste your sweet cunt—and your magical blood—before she gets here.”
He laughs at my shock, eyes going to mine. What’s left of the sunlight reflects off the surface of his pupils, dimly glowing red. My shoulders tense and it feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
No.