Ransom brought up a hand at the same instant that she caught the scent.
Raising her wings and tucking them tight to her body—something she’d final y learned to do on command—she took a long, quiet breath.
Motor oil and fish.
Blood, rancid fat, effluent.
Blueberries bursting open, their juices staining the earth.
Any and al of them could be vampiric scents, but Ransom didn’t need her nose today. He needed good old-fashioned backup. Pul ing out the weapon Deacon had designed for her, the one she’d taken to cal ing her “blade-bow,” she fel in behind him as the other hunter led her and Venom through the labyrinthine passageways between the warehouses.
The day had turned dul about an hour ago, clouds racing to cover the sun, and now, a fat pel et of rain hit Elena’s cheek. She bit back a curse. If the vampires decided to run, the rain would be their wil ing accomplice in washing away the trail. Which meant they had to neutralize the targets here—
retrieval was simply not on the table, not if the vampires were hunting in a pack.
Her wing brushed against something sharp, snagged. She bit down on her lower lip to quiet her gasp and stopped just long enough to unhook her wing from the rusty nail. Blood darkened the midnight blue feathers near the center of her right wing, but she was more worried about tetanus. An instant later, she remembered she was no longer vulnerable to disease—she stil wasn’t going to be punching corroded nails into her body anytime soon.
Continuing to hug one side of the thin al eyway as Ransom took the other, she glanced back at Venom. The vampire was sticking to her but keeping enough of a distance that he wouldn’t be a liability in a fight—in fact, given what she’d seen of his skil s, he’d be an asset.
Blueberries, ripe, ripe blueberries.
She hissed under her breath at Ransom. When he turned, she motioned toward a warehouse about three down from where they currently stood. She saw him nod just before the skies opened and rain sleeted down like some great faucet had been turned on in the heavens.
“Fuck,” she muttered, and abandoning al ideas of subtlety, ran toward the back of the warehouse as Ransom circled around to the front. She was only two feet from the wooden door when she caught a hint of sharp, astringent mint in the air, and then she was being slammed down onto the wet asphalt.
Skin tore off her cheek, and her right hand landed awkwardly enough that she might have broken her wrist if she hadn’t begun to half rol at the instant of contact. As it was, one of her wings crumpled under her with a searing pain that she hoped like hel didn’t mean she’d broken one of the fine bones within.
The weight on her back was gone the next moment, and she didn’t have to look to know that Venom was dealing with the vampire who’d attacked. She took one glance to make sure he had the upper hand—oh, yeah—before leaving him to it and closing the distance to the door. She could hear the hard, thudding sounds of fighting now, as wel as a wave of eerie laughter from within, which meant they’d ambushed Ransom as wel .
Her hand tightened on the blade-bow.
“Wait.” Venom’s breath at her ear, his hand on her arm. “Go up, come in through the roof—from the state of this place, it’s probably half rotten anyway.”
That would be a huge advantage but—“Can’t do a vertical takeoff.”
Venom went down on one knee, his eyes preternatural y vivid in the rain, his sunglasses having been lost in the fight. When he cupped his hands, she realized what he intended and slung the blade-bow over her shoulder. “Ready?” She put one foot in his cupped hands, rested her hands on his muscled shoulders. At his nod, she said, “Go.”
He lowered his hands and then he pushed. Vampires were fast and strong, but she’d never have expected the power he put behind his assist. Twisting in midair, she managed to grip the lip of the roof, feeling the metal cut into her palms deep enough that blood gushed warm and thick. But that mattered nothing while Ransom was down there alone.
Using the muscle that made her hunter-born, she managed to get herself over and onto the roof—and though one of her wings complained a little, it didn’t appear broken. It was obvious Venom had been right about the condition of the roof. Knowing Ransom didn’t have much time, she retrieved her bow, then ran across the cracked and rotting structure until she came to a part that caved in, taking her with it.
She al owed herself to fal , spreading out her wings to slow her momentum as she hit the warmer air inside the warehouse. Startled bloodstained faces lifted up to hers, male and female both, red swirling in those eyes. Bloodlust. That confirmed, she didn’t give them any warning, just started firing. The little spinning blades cut through necks, sliced through brains, blew through hearts ... Jesus, she thought. Deacon was good.
Feet hitting the floor with a jarring thump, she yel ed, “Ransom!”