I listened closely, but no heartbeats pounded and no breaths were drawn. I scented the air, but smelled nothing out of the ordinary. If someone waited for me, they hid themselves exceptionally well. Still, I grabbed one of the knives strapped to my thigh and held it loosely at my side.
I stopped at the edge of the bridge. I could see straight down the lamp-lined pathway. At this hour it was utterly abandoned—like everything else in this town. The soft lamplight glowed against the stone and cement then gave way to darkness. It was in that darkness where I’d find the dirt path and the ring of trees.
The wind tore through my hair, caressing the nape of my neck. The sooner I did this, the sooner I could get back to Andre and leave this place.
I stepped onto the bridge, turning the knife handle over and over in my hand. The two lamps farthest from me flickered. My breath caught, and I immediately opened my senses up. But just like before, I heard no one, saw no one, smelled no one.
Because no one is here, Einstein. I’d clearly inhaled too much holy smoke.
I strode forward, emboldened by my thoughts. The wind picked up again, pushing past me, and I quickened my pace. I was contemplating using my vampiric speed to get this over with when the two lampposts that bordered the far side of the bridge flickered once more, then died out.
I paused. If my heart beat normally, it would’ve skipped at the sight. It did, however, speed up slightly.
I resumed walking, my boots clicking against the cement. Another pair of streetlamps, those that were second farthest from me, made a popping noise as their bulbs exploded.
This time when I halted, I took a staggering step back. My breath hiked. Another pair of lights burned out. The darkness was creeping closer, working its way towards me.
The hair on my forearms rose. Something lurked in those shadows, something I couldn’t sense but I knew intuitively.
I backed up as another two streetlamps burst. Glass shattered outward, and I jumped at the sight. In the darkness I heard laughter. I knew that laughter, knew the evil being that lurked within it.
Now pairs of lights were extinguishing faster and faster, speeding up like they’d scented me.
My grip on the knife tightened. The time to flee had passed. Maybe it was never there to begin with. I caught the smell of blood and brimstone just as the final two lampposts on either side of me burned out.
And then the darkness swallowed me up.
Chapter 12
I blinked my eyes open as a cold breeze bit into the skin of my cheeks. Above me starlight twinkled. My brows pinched together at the sight.
I sat up, my hands crunching into fallen leaves. As I did so, an object rolled off my torso. I caught it by its long, green stalk and lifted it.
A rose, I realized.
I rolled it between my fingers, noticing that its stem was singed where phantom fingertips had touched it. I brought it to my nose, breathing in the smell of brimstone and blood.
The devil.
Last night’s events rushed in. He’d taken me. All that is holy, he’d taken me.
A small note flapped from the neck of the rose, the words penned in blood.
Counting the days.
I set the flower aside with a shaky hand and glanced around me. I was lying in what appeared to have been a forest. Have been being the key words. The trees that should’ve surrounded me were flattened, stretching away from me like rays of a child-drawn sun, and I sat at its point of origin. It looked for all the world like a bomb had gone off.
Or like the devil had paid a visit.
I couldn’t catch my breath. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. The devil—Pluto—had done this months ago when I stayed with Andre at Bishopcourt. I’d assumed it was a one-time thing, something terrifying and unexplainable.
But now it had happened again.
I stood, dusting leaves off of my leather outfit. At least that had remained the same. If I’d woken up dressed in anything else, I’d have to deal with the possibility that the devil had caught a glimpse of nip. And I really didn’t want him to catch a glimpse of nip.
I shivered. I can’t believe my thoughts just went there. I’d been hanging around Oliver for too long.
I gazed up at the night sky again, wondering how much time had passed. A few minutes? An hour?
Sweat beaded my brow, and it wasn’t just from the fear that thrummed through me. My body was weak, my muscles tired. I felt … sick. And I couldn’t remember the last time I was sick. If ever.
When I reached to dust off my back, my hand came away with ash. I started at the sight of it. Bringing my hand to my face, I scented it. Not simply ash. Ash, brimstone, and a hint of … rose.
My eyes took in my surroundings anew. The uprooted trees formed a nearly perfect circle around me. I brought my clean hand to my mouth. This was the copse of trees the Hestia spoke of. Beneath me was a pile of ash, all that remained of the bush that once grew here. I bent down and picked up the singed rose that rested next to it.
This rose is a rarity, and I want it plucked by a special hand. Special hand indeed. The devil had harvested it, not me.
The air grew hazy, as though from a heat wave. I caught the scent of light cologne and magic. That was all the warning I got.
“Oh, my effing gawd, Buffy called and she wants her outfit back.”
I jumped at the voice behind me. Whirling around, I caught sight of ice blond hair and a cocked hip.
“Oliver?” The only thing more surprising than my current situation was that he’d pop in to join me.
“In the exquisite flesh.” He held up his arms.
I didn’t question how he was here, or why he’d dropped in now. I couldn’t even answer those questions myself. So I threw myself into his arms and promptly started blubbering.
“Whoa, is my baddie BBF crying?” Oliver’s arms dropped around me. He pulled me close and stroked my back. “I promise we can get you new clothes and burn these. No one but us three will have to know.”
I sniffled, and drew back a little. “Three?”