5. Trent
Chapter 5
Trent
T rent hadn’t intended to eavesdrop on the attack. He’d been trapped in his own head as he turned the corner, brainstorming ways to get out of singing with Oscar. He knew it was useless, but he couldn’t stop coming up with new plans. The latest involved transferring schools.
At first, Trent thought it was a mugging, but listening in, it was clearly more than that. When the fangs and claws came out, he put the pieces together.
Of course, Oscar was a vampire. Of course he was. The blasé attitude? The total lack of concern for others? That comes when you don’t have to worry if you’ll be able to eat. Or if you’ll grow old and die.
Vampires were inherently selfish beings, even the ones who weren’t killers. Trent should know. That’s why there was a moment, the tiniest second, where he considered walking away. But then they attacked Oscar.
When he saw the muscular vamp’s fat fingers wrapped around Oscar’s neck, something inside him snapped. It was as though a feral animal caged within him had broken through its bars, howling. This disgusting monster wasn’t allowed to touch his Oscar.
His Oscar? Where the hell did that come from?
Thankfully, Trent’s training kicked in and his mind went blank. He pulled out a wooden stake from the front pocket of his backpack—he always had one on him—and ran toward the big vampire’s exposed back. Trent drove the weapon through the skin and flesh, between two ribs, and pierced his heart.
Trent hadn’t lost all of his conditioning. The sound of wood cutting through meat was very satisfying. The musclebound vampire went down fast, his now-lifeless head smacking hard against the rough pavement.
Oscar’s eyes widened when he saw Trent, but he had no time to deal with Oscar’s surprise. The two other vamps lunged for him, their claws still dripping red with his classmate’s blood. The fear and rage on their faces telegraphed their inexperience. They had little control. The one he’d killed had been holding them together.
And god were they poorly dressed.
Trent pulled out the knife he had hidden in his waistband, spinning and slashing at the air in front of him to keep the two away. They growled at him, and when the one on the right reached out to claw at him, he sliced across the underside of their forearm.
The vamp hissed and snatched their arm back. Trent made eye contact with Oscar, who was standing stock-still. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Want to help me out?” Trent shouted. Oscar was as useless at fighting as he was at everything else.
The other vamp swiped at Trent. He jumped to the side, almost avoiding its claw, the tips of the vampire’s fingernails slicing open stripes on his torso. It hurt like a motherfucker, but thank god it hadn’t gone any deeper.
Trent couldn’t stop the grunt of pain that burst from his lips. Even as sun-weakened and blood-starved as the vampires clearly were, Trent was human and breakable. At Trent’s outburst, Oscar was shaken from his paralysis. Faster than Trent’s eyes could track, he slid between Trent and the two vamps, both of whom recoiled at his sudden presence.
“Stay.” Oscar’s voice vibrated with the strength of his Compel, and the two attackers went as still as statues. Trent was impressed. Few vampires wielded that kind of power.
“You will answer my questions.” The two struggled to break the command, but despite their muscles straining against the hold, their bodies betrayed them. A drop of sweat trickled down the temple of the vamp on the left.
“Is Elliott really alive?” Oscar’s voice was tinged with fear as he asked the question. Trent had never heard him sound like that. He wasn’t a fan.
“Yes,” the one on the left said, the word forcing its way through their clenched teeth.
“Is he in charge of your coven? Group? Whatever it is that you are?” Oscar kept his hand raised, two fingers up, as he interrogated them.
“He is coven master…”
Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “Where is your covenhouse?”
The vampires struggled harder now, their faces twitching as they fought the compulsion. They did not want to reveal that. The two began to shake, falling to the concrete and flopping around like fish out of water.
“Where is your covenhouse?”
One of the vamps, finally giving in, whispered a single word.
“It’s—”
With that, the other vamp, the one who’d managed to keep quiet, broke free and extended their claws. With a swift, razor-sharp swipe, they cut clean through the other one’s neck. The head of the gaunt betrayer tumbled down, hitting the path with a dull thud.
Oscar moved to attack, but before he reached them, the final vampire was gone, sprinting away, scaling the side of a nearby brownstone like a spider and disappearing.
“What the hell?” Oscar yelled. Trent spun around, searching the adjacent rooftops. There was no one in sight, just the two bloody corpses there on the ground.
“We need to leave!” Trent’s words came out in a harsh whisper. “Someone will call the cops.”
Trent stepped toward Oscar, and his pain burst into a bonfire. His hand went to his side, the hurt there growing as the adrenaline started to dip. His t-shirt was shredded, and blood was weeping from his cuts.
“We have to get you help.” Oscar whipped out his phone and texted furiously. Trent stood there, his left hand pressing against the wound.
After a moment, Oscar looked up at Trent. “Can you walk?”
Trent took a few more steps. It hurt like hell, but he could do it. He nodded. Oscar flew to his side with inhuman speed, faster than the wings of a hummingbird.
“You need medical care.” Oscar’s eyes ran over Trent’s injuries. Concern shone in his eyes. He held out his arms in front of him. “Let me carry you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“You are not carrying me. I’m a human, not a toddler. I can walk.” Trent moved a few steps away from the pile of dead bodies and stopped. “What about them?”
Oscar’s face tensed as he surveyed the corpses of his attackers. “My coven will deal with the offal. They’re sending a car. But you’re right, we should clear out, in case anyone arrives to investigate.”
Trent hobbled a few more steps, stumbling from the pain. Oscar was instantly at his side.
“No way. I’m fine on my own.”
“You’re clearly not.” Oscar bent down and placed Trent’s arm around his shoulder. “I won’t carry you, but you can lean on me as we go.”
Trent snorted, but didn’t pull his arm away. He had never been this close to Oscar. The vampire was a physical contradiction. Tall and slender, his slight frame hid his supernatural strength.
Neither of them said anything as they walked, but it wasn’t awkward. Trent concentrated on keeping his movements smooth so as to avoid more pain. It was strangely natural, leaning on Oscar, his linebacker’s build fully supported by the vampire’s confident gait. Trent found it surprisingly soothing where their bodies touched, Oscar’s unnaturally low body temperature a cool balm.
And Oscar smelled good. A sweet, crisp scent emanated from him, like an apple on a fall day. As Trent breathed it in, butterflies burst in his stomach. What was that about?
A long black town car pulled up next to them. Without checking the driver, Oscar opened the door, gesturing for Trent to get in. Trent slid in, his hands gripping the roof to steady himself. He managed to avoid any major jolts of pain.
The artificial pine scent of one of those little tree-shaped air fresheners filled his nose. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was certainly strong. The seats were covered in luxuriously soft brown leather. Trent stretched his legs all the way out. There was so much room. This was no cheap ride.
Oscar slipped in from the other side, and they were on the road before Trent realized that in all the commotion, he had neglected to get some vital information.
“Are you taking me to the hospital?”
Oscar winced. “Going to the ER wouldn’t be smart. You look like you’ve been attacked by a jungle cat. They’ll ask questions, and we can’t provide the answers.”
“Where then?”
Oscar didn’t respond. Trent waited in frustrated silence. He hated when people were like this. Just be honest and deal with the consequences.
“Where are we going , Oscar?”
Oscar sighed and closed his eyes. “To the covenhouse.”
Trent recoiled, sending a burst of pain up and down his side, but he ignored it.
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s the safest location. We have the supplies to stitch you up.” Oscar shrugged, defeated. “You obviously have deep knowledge of us. Nothing there will be a surprise.”
“I’m not going to a house full of bloodsuckers.” Trent’s voice shook as he spoke. He wasn’t doing this. He’d spent the last ten years trying to get as far away from vampires as possible.
Oscar turned and locked eyes with him. There was real worry in his face, and something else. Pity? Trent hated that.
“I understand that we don’t really get along?—”
“I don’t know you.” Trent couldn’t help his brusque tone.
“Other than the fact that you’ve decided you hate me and that I’m your biggest competition.”
“You’re not my competition.”
“No.” Oscar’s expression turned sly. “Of course I’m not. You aren’t on my level.”
“Fuck you.” Trent’s side hurt. He was in no mood for witty comebacks.
Oscar sighed. “I know you’re mad because I’m gonna get the Manhattan Lyric gig?—”
“—you’re not?—”
“—but must you know that neither I nor Anthony would ever hurt you.”
“Anthony?!” Trent’s voice squeaked in a very unpowerful way. Dammit, he’d been trying to play it cool. “He’s a vampire?”
Oscar nodded. “He’s the coven master’s mate.”
Trent slumped back onto the dark brown leather of the car seat. That explained so much. No wonder Anthony was so infuriatingly meddlesome. Meddling was the literal job of the coven master’s mate. Anthony had just expanded his range of influence to include his voice studio.
The silence overtook them as they slogged through the New York traffic, slowly making their way from Brooklyn to the Upper West side. Oscar’s discomfort and curiosity poured off him. He shifted in his seat, twiddling his fingers obsessively.
It was driving Trent crazy.
“What?”
Oscar startled and looked over. “Um…nothing.”
Trent rolled his eyes. “You can run home to the covenhouse in like ten minutes. You’re a vampire. You don’t have to wait for me. I’m just a human.”
“What does that mean?” Oscar’s words came out in an indignant rasp.
“I know how impatient vampires get when we can’t keep up with you. I won’t stop you.”
Trent leaned back, his head sinking into the plush cushioned headrest behind him. He closed his eyes. Maybe it was harsh, but he’d killed a vamp today, and he still had a wound that needed to be treated. He wasn’t in the mood to be polite.
“I’m not leaving you. You’re injured.”
Trent shrugged. “The cuts are shallow. Not the worst I’ve had. You don’t owe me anything.”
“You saved my life!” Oscar’s insistent tone forced Trent’s eyes open. What was going on with him? Maybe he didn’t know him very well, but Trent couldn’t recall Oscar giving a shit about anyone, well, ever.
Trent didn’t have a response, so he sat there. One thing that unnerved people about Trent was that he wasn’t willing to fill silence with small talk. If there wasn’t anything for him to say, he wouldn’t say anything.
Finally, in a low, tentative voice, Oscar asked the question Trent had been expecting.
“How do you know about us?”
Trent sighed. He wasn’t about to pour out his heart and soul to Oscar Acosta, a man who couldn’t hold a serious conversation if his life depended on it. Besides, Trent didn’t like to think about his past for good reason.
If he started talking about his history, then the memories would flood in. Memories of the vampires in his stepfather’s coven who’d tormented him, memories of the slow unraveling of his mother, of her eventual —
No. Not tonight.
“I had cousins who were turned.” A little white lie, close enough to the truth.
“Oh.” Oscar tapped his fingertips against his thigh. “And you carry around a stake?”
“More than one.” Oscar’s eyes widened at Trent’s answer. “My introduction to vamps wasn’t…pleasant. I spent a long time increasing my odds of survival for when the time came.”
“You trained to kill vampires?”
“Not exactly.” Trent looked out the window. They were crossing the Williamsburg bridge into Manhattan, and the sun sparked gold on the water of the East River. There was a faint rumble as the train ran over the top of them on the next level up. On a different day, Trent might have thought the moment was poetic.
“Then what?”
“If I had to be around them, I had to learn how to protect myself.”
“We’re not all like?—”
Trent stopped Oscar’s words with a sharp look. He was not in the mood for a “not all vampires” speech. He’d been through too much.
“Many of you are,” Trent said, keeping his voice tightly controlled. “Most of you. I know it firsthand. My high school girlfriend was attacked by vampires. Vampires I knew . Just to get to me. They treated it like a game. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not inclined to sympathy.”
Oscar turned his head away, staring off into the rows of passing buildings. Trent was being harsh, maybe, but it wasn’t his job to protect Oscar’s feelings.
After a few minutes of silence, Trent’s side began to pulse and throb. The adrenaline of had completely worn off. He took a few deep breaths to calm his nervous system. This was always the worst part of a fight, when the ache of the injuries hit in the aftermath.
“Who were they?” Trent asked, distracting himself from the pain shooting through his torso. “The vamps. Why did they attack you? Your ex sent them?”
Oscar cleared his throat, and when he turned back, his jaw was set. His fingers continued to fidget, his hand tapping at the leather-covered door. He squeezed his eyelids together as if trying to banish an upsetting vision.
“He was supposed to be dead.”
Trent took in Oscar’s words. There was a deep hurt there, no matter how Oscar tried to cover it.
“Why did you think he was dead?” Trent resisted the urge to reach out with a comforting touch. They didn’t know each other that way. Or like each other. But Oscar was being so…unlike himself.
Oscar opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Maybe he, like Trent, couldn’t bring himself to confide in his rival. But the pain was tangible.
“My old coven, the Azarian coven…”
Trent breathed in sharply. “Azarian? You were part of that?”
“Yes? What do you know about my old coven?”
“That it was bad, bad enough that other vamps steered clear of Manhattan.” Trent rolled his eyes at the confusion written on Oscar’s face. “I still have friends back home. They keep me informed. When I decided to go to school in New York, they warned me to stay away from the Azarians.”
“Smart friends,” Oscar said under his breath, staring down at his shoes. “After my old coven master died, there was chaos. The strongest vampires were battling to take over the position. They were ruthless. They sacrificed the weaker vamps, feeding off us…”
Oscar swallowed, his hands curling into fists.
“Never mind that. I caught a glimpse of Elliott. He’d been badly injured. I assumed that the others would finish him off.”
“So, your ex might be alive. Why would he send three vampires to kill you?”
“Not kill me,” Oscar said, his voice barely a whisper. “To take me back. To force me…”
“Force you to what?”
Oscar shook his head, dissipating the cloud of fear and grief that had gathered around him. “I don’t want to talk about it. The short version is, he may believe that I’m his mate.”
“Vampire mates. What a scam. If I found out I was some bloodsucker’s destiny-boyfriend, I’d fucking run.”
The harsh words were out before Trent could stop them. Oscar stared at him. Trent wished he hadn’t blurted that out. It revealed more than he’d intended.
“Where did that come from?” Oscar asked. He had a gleam in his eye that Trent needed to shut down. He didn’t want Oscar asking questions about his family and his past.
“I’ve never known any mates that worked out well,” Trent answered. “The opposite, in fact. Most of them are dead now.”
Oscar cocked his head, not saying anything. Trent should have kept that can of worms closed. Oscar’s eyes still held a glint of suspicion, but he didn’t ask any more questions.
“Besides,” Trent continued, “I thought once you drank your mate’s blood, there was no question. That you would instantly know.”
Before Oscar could respond, the car slowed, pulling up in front of a large apartment building. Not a skyscraper, but enormous still, an imposing structure of concrete, glass, and steel. It was plain, with no ornamentation or embellishment, and the individual units were all dark. Had they tinted the windows? No light escaped from inside.
If this was the covenhouse, it wasn’t a comforting sight.
Oscar cleared his throat, and his hand went to the car door handle.
“We’re here.”