Freak Show (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #7)

Linden was left holding a handful of my hair as I tore from his grasp. I leaped on him with fangs bared and slashed his face. I followed up with a head butt that made him stumble.

A snarly mess of fangs and claws, I said, “The Wicked Kiss is mine. I killed Harley Kayson. Everything that f**ker had belongs to me. If you want it, you’ll have to do better than that.”

I slashed at him again, going for his throat. He moved suddenly to counterattack, and I got his eye instead. A scream tore from him as my claw sank into the soft tissue, tearing it to shreds. We grappled, a blur in the mirror. I kept expecting the door to open. I had to finish this before that happened.

Linden was strong; his age showed in his attacks. I might not be able to use my power on him, but I could use it to strengthen myself. Tapping the energy lying in wait within my core, I focused it all into my fist.

I punched through his chest with ease, my hand closing on his dead heart. “Surprise,” I said cheerfully, despite my bloodied face and missing chunk of hair. “This isn’t your city anymore, Linden.”

Linden’s remaining eye was wide with shock. I yanked his heart free and crushed it in my hand. The bloody, pulpy remains quickly faded to a dusty residue. His body followed suit, hitting the floor in a burst of dust and ash.

“Asshole,” I muttered, turning back to the sink to clean up. My body thrummed with the rush of the fight. It was exhilarating.

I’d just finished scrubbing blood from my face and hands when the door opened and three women entered. They all filed into stalls without so much as looking at me. I had a feeling the locals were oblivious to this stuff, used to it after living with it for so long.

My lip bled from where my teeth had gouged it, and my nose swelled, but otherwise, I was no worse for wear. A sore spot on my scalp reminded me to pick the blonde hairs from Linden’s ashes and flush them before leaving the restroom.

“What in the f**k?” Jez’s loud exclamation drew the eye of bystanders when I emerged. “What happened to you?”

“Linden happened to me.”

As I proceeded to tell the brief tale of the bathroom fiasco, Arys led us from the hotel. He was on high alert, continuously checking to see if we were being followed.

“We need to see Jenner before we leave,” he said. “Now is the best time for him to make a move against the rest of the blood ring.”

“Jenner? Again?” I questioned with a huff. “Fine. But he can come to us. I’m not going back to that place.”

“Caesars. Poker room. One hour.” Arys passed my phone back after making the call. He and Shaz would have to replace the phones Linden swiped from them. “Let’s walk. I want to stop in front of the Bellagio fountain. You have to see it up close.”

Walking The Strip at a relaxed pace was nice. It was the first time I’d had a chance to enjoy it. The hectic pace of the last few days hadn’t allowed me a chance to appreciate this crazy ass city that never sleeps.

People packed the streets. Families, couples, groups of friends all made their way through the throng, voices raised in jubilance. We couldn’t walk for more than a minute without someone shoving escort cards at the guys.

Jez plucked a card from Arys’s hand and studied the busty blonde in the photo. “I bet this isn’t the girl that shows up when you call.”

Arys shrugged “As long as they send a screamer, it’s all good.”

The two of them shared a laugh while I exchanged an eye roll with Shaz. Nobody could ever say predatory types didn’t have a sense of humor.

We passed showgirls posing with tourists for tips and even a few Elvis impersonators traveling as a small pack. The bright lights and constant noise was kind of comforting and much more intense in real life than any movie could portray. I was fascinated by the glitz of The Strip. There was so much to see. Maybe Vegas wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe it was just all the damn vampires.

The Eiffel Tower was especially beautiful against the night sky. I gazed up at it, lost in thought, wondering about the men I’d killed in that hotel. It was a lost memory that didn’t feel real. Roscoe owed me for that, and I would collect on that debt.

We reached the Bellagio to find the foot traffic very heavy in front of it. All of the tourists and their dogs lined up, waiting for the fountain to go off again.

Two giggling twenty-somethings passed with drink containers bigger than my arm. Jez’s gaze followed them with delight. “I must have one of those.”

“A girl or a drink?” I asked. It was Jez after all.

Her response was lost in the noise as the fountain lights came on. People chattered excitedly and held up smartphones to take video footage. God Bless the USA played over loud speakers, creating a sense of unity among all gathered, regardless of home country. It was nice.