Chapter Twenty-Nine
Grant
The outside of the club looks dismal in the daylight. It’s the only thing I’ve seen in the sun so far that I don’t like, though that might be more down to the way it makes my skin crawl than the actual aesthetic.
Margot strides off ahead, trying the doors, but of course they don’t open.
“You really think she’s here?” Asher asks. He’s being pragmatic, I know. We don’t have any proof that Rachel is missing, and looking up her phone revealed nothing. She might have turned it off, but that only made Margot more frantic. She’d never do that, apparently.
“No,” Margot snaps, “but we don’t have any better ideas, do we?”
We’ve not had a call from Vlad, so she’s not at their flat. Margot spent an hour calling around all their friends, spreading the word, but no one has seen her, and I know Margot thinks it’s an hour wasted, even though it’s not.
“Let’s go around the back,” I say, and some of Margot’s temper cools as she stalks off.
We all follow. Asher hovers closer to Quinn than I’ve noticed him do the entire time they’ve been here. I get it. We’ve all got people we can lose.
Vlad is safe, at least. He’ll join us once it goes dark, and I’m sure that once he’s here, we’ll find her.
She’s probably fine, has likely retreated somewhere to think everything through.
I scowl and run my fingers over the brick of the building next to the club as we make our way down the alley.
Ten years ago even, I’m sure I would have known all the places she could be.
Things have changed. This place has changed. We’ve both changed.
Margot tries the back door, but that’s locked, too. She levels a glare at Asher. “Open it.”
“I’m not that good at lockpicking.”
“You know what I mean. Please. What if she’s in there?”
Asher looks at me, eyebrows raised, and I ask my power to reach out, but I butt up against wards almost immediately. Those weren’t there the other night. “Wards,” I mutter, and he sighs.
“I’m not sure we’ll even be able to get in then,” he says, but he hunkers down next to the door all the same. Quinn takes up position at his back, watching down the alley to make sure we don’t get caught.
The wards were not designed to prevent non-magical breaking in, seems like, because Asher picks the lock quickly. I push my power out around us. The wards feel more like a deterrent than a warning, but we’re going to have to be fast.
“They’ll know we’re here,” I say as the door swings open. The corridor beyond is dark and uninviting.
“Let them,” Margot says. She strides down the corridor, the torch on her phone lighting the way, and I scurry after her. Asher sighs before he and Quinn follow.
Asher must shut the door behind us because the corridor is suddenly darker than it was before.
I blink quickly, then frown. Seems like spending time in the sun has done something to my vision—I can see better in the dark than I could when I was human, but not as well as I could last night.
I blink again. Maybe it’ll just take some adjusting.
I hope I don’t lose the ability completely.
That would suck; we hardly ever have lights on in the house if we’re just walking from place to place.
Margot pushes another door open and we walk out into the club itself. It’s almost eerie during the day, with how empty and quiet it is. I reach out with my magic again. For a second, something brushes against it, but in the next instant, it’s gone.
“Someone’s here,” I murmur.
Asher grunts quietly, the only indication he’s heard me, and Margot glances back but doesn’t move the beam of her torch. There’s a stubborn set to her mouth. She knows I don’t mean that Rachel is here. As far as I can tell, she’s nowhere nearby, though I’m not sure—
The bond between me and Vlad pulls taut, surprise and fear flooding it for a brief second. I suck in a breath.
I need to go back. He’s in danger.
“Vlad,” I say, and Asher sucks in a sharp breath. I don’t know if Rachel will be with him or not, but it can’t be a coincidence that we’re all here and he’s being targeted, can it?
“Go,” he says, and I race for the door, but before I can get through it, a dark shape appears in my path.
My eyes have adjusted. I can pick out his sneering features easily. “Jakob.”
“Your name isn’t Quinn at all, is it?” Jakob replies, and I don’t need to look back to see the vague confusion on Quinn’s face. “No matter. I don’t need to know your name to rip you apart.”
I growl—I’ll go through him if I have to—but before I can move, Margot lets out a scream. My magic brushes up against more of Eirian’s. Jakob is bursting with it, just like Harold was. I chance a look back. The bartender has hold of Margot, his teeth at her throat.
“You need to let us leave,” I say.
Asher is moving, but slowly, and Quinn has his attention on me, but I don’t need that. They both need to help Margot. She’s in more danger than I am.
“I don’t think I will,” Jakob replies. “If we’re not enough, then neither are you.”
I hear a fleshy thud, and the bartender growls, but I keep my eye on Jakob, who leaps towards me.
He’s bigger than me, older, but I can already see that Eirian’s magic is eating away at his own.
Time alone would make me the victor. I don’t have that.
I need to be sure Vlad is okay, and I can’t do that if I’m here fighting.
My magic lashes out, cutting through what he’s sent towards me, but he’s been a vampire far longer than anything else, and he’s determined to make this fight physical.
He grabs me around the middle, bringing me to the ground.
My head smacks against the tiles and I groan.
Fuck. Jakob laughs, fangs glinting in the light from Margot’s dropped phone.
He’s not expecting Quinn, and neither am I. Even in his human form, he’s strong, and he hauls Jakob off me and tosses him against the bar. I jump to my feet. Jakob hisses, blood trickling from his hairline, and I don’t dare look at the other fight.
“You need to go,” Quinn says. His eyes are all silver and when I glance at him, his skin kind of ripples, like he’s about to shift.
“I can’t leave you here to deal with him.”
Jakob snarls and runs at us again. He pushes all the magic he can at Quinn, and while wolves might be resistant to fae magic, that doesn’t mean they can entirely stop it.
Quinn crashes into one of the booths on the other side of the room and I grapple with Jakob, trying to bring my knee up to slow him down.
He turns us, shoving me back against the bar. I hiss through my teeth when he draws back and punches me. My own punch feels weak in comparison, but I don’t care about that.
I don’t want to kill him, except he’s already dying and I know how much safer this city will be once he’s no longer in it.
He didn’t need Eirian to be a predator. He didn’t even need to become a vampire to be one.
That’s who he is, deep in his core, and I wonder how many victims he had before Eirian found him.
Quinn drags his T-shirt over his head before he shifts behind Jakob, and Jakob screams when Quinn sinks his teeth into his leg.
He doesn’t let go of me. I see that fire burning in his eyes.
He wants to kill me. Whatever else he wants, that’s what he’s trying to do, but I’m not about to let him succeed.
He kicks out, magic lashing out when he does, and Quinn yelps and rolls but is back on his feet in the next instant.
“You think you can take my place?” Jakob growls.
“Take your place?” I reach behind me blindly, trying not to betray anything when my fingers close around the neck of a bottle. It feels full. Heavy. Good.
“I’m not about to let some arrogant little fledgling usurp me to sit beside the new fae queen.”
I growl. Quinn is stalking closer, ears flat to his head. It seems like Asher and Margot have the bartender under control, though it’s a small mercy—he’ll be dead too, soon.
“Who said she’s going to end up the queen?” I snap and swing my left arm around so the bottle connects with Jakob’s temple. It’s more than just that, of course. My magic wraps around it, shuddering through him, and when he screams and falls back, Quinn is already upon him.
He tears into Jakob’s throat and I pull a face as my stomach turns. Okay. I’m fine with the abstract thought of Jakob being dead, but this is a bit much.
I recognise the irony, considering I am, after all, a vampire.
Quinn looks up at me. His muzzle is wet, dark with blood, and his ears twitch as he turns his gaze pointedly to the door. Vlad. I look at Asher, but he’s already waving me off. “Go. We’ll be right behind you.”
They will. I’m sure they will.
And even if not, I’m not about to let anyone hurt him, least of all a high fae who thinks she can prey on vampires to take power that doesn’t belong to her. Should never belong to her.
I race out the door and onto the street. The sun is dropping low, shadows lengthening. I take a breath and break into a run.