Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Marna carefully opened the wooden door. She’d slept for hours—far longer than she’d intended. When she’d first crept into the bedroom, she’d known that immediate escape wasn’t a possibility. Tanner would have been on guard. So she’d planned to bide her time and wait a bit before slipping away.
She’d showered and climbed into bed— his bed. There had been no mistaking the rich, masculine scent that clung to the soft sheets. She’d eased beneath the covers and just closed her eyes for a few moments.
She’d dreamed of Tanner. Hot, too vivid dreams of his naked skin and his strong hands stroking her body. Kissing him back had been a dangerous mistake. Kissing him had just made the ache in her grow stronger.
It was an ache for something she couldn’t have.
The house was silent as she tiptoed to the top of the stairs. She’d dressed in a t-shirt she’d taken from his room. The massive shirt swallowed her, really more of a dress than a shirt. Marna glanced down. The banister gleamed, the wood shining. The walls upstairs were an old, faded brown, but the staircase was in perfect condition.
As if someone had recently spent a lot of time restoring it.
It looked like her shifter had a hobby.
Her fingers slid down the top of the banister, rubbing lightly against the smooth wood.
Still no sound from below. She could try creeping down there and slipping out the front door, but Marna figured that plan was too risky. Why get too close to Tanner? Better to stay as far from him as possible.
She headed back into his bedroom and locked the door behind her. The fading light trickling through the window told her that late afternoon was already coming close. Time to get out of there while she still could.
Marna opened the window and glanced below. The fall from this height would hurt, no doubt, but the pain would probably be no worse than that of a bullet. She’d managed to survive yesterday. She’d survive this, too.
Her hand rubbed over the now-healed wound. Good thing even fallen angels could recover quickly from most of their injuries. Otherwise, she still would have been in that morgue.
I’m not ready to die. How many humans had told her that same thing over the centuries?
Just as she was leaning forward, a knock sounded on the bedroom door. Then, Tanner’s strong voice called out, “You don’t want to do that.”
Her fingers curved around the window ledge, but she glanced toward the bedroom door.
“You’re just gonna get bruised and banged up, and I’ll have you—” He kicked in the door, breaking the flimsy lock easily. Then Tanner stalked inside as if he owned the place. Oh, yes, he did. “I’ll have you,” he said again, eyes glinting, “before you can even run more than a few feet.”
Her heart slammed into her chest and fear had her tensing, but Marna tried to play it cool. She lifted an eyebrow and asked, “Who said anything about running?” Jumping, maybe.
His lips quirked.
“The next time you want in,” she told him, turning her back to the window so that she faced him fully, “maybe you should give a girl a chance to answer your knock. You know, before you go all macho crazy and break down the door.”
A real smile flashed across his face. Wow. She hadn’t realized, the shifter was actually handsome.
He had a dimple in his left cheek.
Then his smile faded. “I heard you open the window.”
Shifter senses. She’d forgotten how strong they could be. Marna shrugged and tried to look innocent. For an angel, that shouldn’t have been such a hard task. “It’s hot in here.”
Tanner shook his head and exhaled on a low sigh. “You’re so careful with your answers.”
She’d had to learn to be.
“But I know this game.” He headed toward her, eliminating those few precious feet that separated them.
She didn’t back up. Showing fear wasn’t an option. Besides, there wasn’t any place for her to go now. Not unless she decided to hop out that window. “I’m not playing a game with you.”
His gaze swept over her. “Don’t you understand? For now, you need me.”
That grated, and she snapped, “I don’t need anyone.”
His dark eyebrows rose. “We’ll see about that.” His gaze slipped to her hair. For a moment, his eyes seemed to soften. “Damn but you are pretty.”
What?
He lifted his hand as if to touch her.
Marna flinched.
He stilled. His gaze found hers once more.
She took a breath and tried to shove aside the memory that had exploded in her mind. “Your…claws…”
His claws had come out. Maybe they’d been out from the moment he kicked in that door, but she hadn’t noticed them until he’d lifted his hand. Now, she couldn’t seem to notice anything else.
His claws were long, curving, and wicked sharp. Sharp enough to slice away her life.
Tanner took a step back. “I…” He shook his head. Dropped his hand. Hid both of his hands behind his back. “When I broke through the door, the adrenaline pushed part of the change. The claws were like a reflex.”
His words barely penetrated. She was remembering another shifter. When Brandt had attacked her, his claws had looked just like Tanner’s.
She hated the sight of a shifter’s claws.
He slid back a few more steps.
She took several more gulping breaths.
Her gaze fell to the floor and, behind him, and she saw drops of blood. Falling from his hands. Tanner had fisted his hands, and his claws must have cut right through the skin. “Tanner?”
His head lifted. “It’s okay.” After a moment’s hesitation, he raised his hands. She could see the small slices in his palms. “They’re gone.”
His claws were gone. The shifter had his control back.
Marna rolled her shoulders, and the scars on her back seemed to burn.
His eyes weren’t meeting hers. “Not that you don’t look absolutely fantastic in my shirt, but we need to get you some fresh clothes and?—”
A loud crash sounded from downstairs. Tanner whirled and raced out of the room.
At first, Marna didn’t move at all. Then she heard the roar of “Shifter!”
It was a familiar roar.
Another crash seemed to shake the house. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
As an angel, Marna had always been taught to fear one being above all others. To fear the ancient angel who had fallen after he left a trail of bodies in a vicious rampage.
To fear the being known as Sammael.
A being she was pretty sure had just broken into Tanner’s house. That had been his roar. Once you heard Sammael’s voice, you never forgot it. At least, angels didn’t. Angels learned early to remember the things that were the most dangerous to them.
Marna glanced toward the window. Now would be the perfect time to make her escape. Tanner would be busy—probably fighting for his life against Sammael—and she would be free.
She just had to leave the shifter and make her escape.
One of the deadliest paranormals in the city grabbed Tanner by the throat and threw him across the room. “I heard about what you did, shifter!”
Sammael—Sam to his enemies and the maybe two friends the prick had in town—marched toward Tanner. He was an ancient angel, a freaking bringer of hell on earth, and it just figured that he’d be the one who’d busted into Tanner’s house.
When Sam tried to take a jab at him, Tanner swiped out at the Fallen and had the pleasure of seeing blood streak down Sam’s chest. Sam might be a badass, but Tanner knew the guy’s weak spots. Sam wouldn’t be taking him down.
When Sam leapt back, Tanner raised his claws and prepared for another round. “Just what the hell did you hear?” Tanner asked.
“You killed an angel.” Sam’s voice went lethally soft.
Huh. Looked like word on the paranormal streets had spread fast. But, technically, he hadn’t been the one to take that shot at Marna. The gossips could have at least gotten that part right. The death charge belonged to the detective who’d wound up with one hell of a bruised jaw. Tanner figured that had been a great way to break in a new partner. By nearly breaking his face.
Sam closed in on him. “You’re going to suffer for what you’ve done.”
Perfect. Now he had to worry about Sam going ballistic on him. And Sam ballistic? Not good.
The Fallen reached for him again. Tanner deflected the blow and plowed his fist into Sam’s stomach. Sam didn’t even grunt at the impact, but Tanner’s hand felt as if it had slammed into a brick wall. Maybe he should have used his claws with that punch. This time, he would?—
“Stop!”
Both men turned at Marna’s shout. She was halfway down the stairs and her hand held tightly to the banister.
Sam shook his head. “Marna?” Yes, that was shock in his voice. So much for being all-knowing.
Taking advantage of the Fallen’s distracted state, Tanner punched Sam in the jaw.
Sam growled and lunged to attack him.
“I said… stop! ” Marna jumped the rest of the way down the stairs.
Sam stopped fighting Tanner. After a moment’s study, he sauntered toward her. “You look good, for a dead girl.”
Marna stared up at the Fallen with wide eyes. “Why…why are you here?”
“Because he came to get a little vengeance,” Tanner retorted, understanding Sam’s rage far better than Marna did. She just didn’t have enough experience with emotions. Not yet. He was working on that issue. Soon enough, he’d make sure she understood everything. “One life for another, right, Sam?”
Sam’s gaze swept over Marna. The Fallen was probably checking her for injuries. “I was told the cops killed you.”
“That’s what we needed people to think.” Tanner strode to Marna’s side. Didn’t touch her, but he sure wanted to. “As you can see, she’s just fine.”
Sam didn’t look convinced. “Are you?” he asked Marna.
“I’m still breathing.” Her soft answer.
Sam’s eyes narrowed, and, after a beat of time, he offered his arm to her. “Come with me.”
The hell she would. Tanner fought to pull back his claws and stay calm, for at least a little longer. Control. “She’s staying with me.”
Sam’s gaze seemed to see too much as he glanced over at Tanner. “Hmmm. Like that, is it, shifter?”
Dick. “Someone set her up for murder. Some bastard killed two shifters but pinned the crime on her.” It still pissed him off. “You think I’m just gonna let that go?” Then, before Sam could say anything else, Tanner added, “I’m the cop here.” Not some renegade angel out for blood vengeance. “I’m gonna do my job. I’ll track the bastard.”
But Sam still had his hand up. Had the Fallen even heard a word Tanner had said? With his gaze on Marna, Sam explained, “I came as soon as I heard what happened. Our kind should stay together.”
Tanner looked at Marna and was surprised to see that she had actually inched away from the Fallen— and closer to me. Tanner figured he must be the lesser evil in the room. Nice change of pace.
“I want to know who’s doing this to me.” Her shoulders straightened. “I will know.” Determination roughened her words. “I won’t be leaving New Orleans until I figure out what’s happening and why it’s happening.”
Well, well. It looked like his angel wasn’t going to turn tail and run after all. Maybe he wouldn’t have to chain her to his side, either.
Pity.
He realized that Sam didn’t appear particularly surprised to hear about the murders. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Tanner charged, “You knew that those two shifters got taken out.”
“Shifter deaths are hardly surprising.” Sam shrugged, looking completely careless. “When I heard, I thought she was just getting some payback.” His eyes raked Marna. “But that wasn’t the way of it?”
“No.” Quiet. Firm.
Sam nodded. “Then we’ll find out who’s doing the killing. I can help you.”
Tanner didn’t want the Fallen close to Marna, but he knew just how powerful Sam’s reach could be. “If you hear anything, you tell me.” Sam had missed his whole I’m-the-cop bit. Figured.
Sam turned away and began to head back toward the broken door. He hadn’t kicked it in the way Tanner had done upstairs. Instead, Sam had pulverized the thing. “If you want to hear the supernatural secrets in this town…” Sam tossed this back over his shoulder. “Head to Hell.”
Hell . Not the home of the devil—though from what Tanner had heard, the dude had long since left that place—but the bar nestled deep in the Quarter. A bar humans instinctively avoided, as if they felt the evil that lurked inside.
A bar he’d be hitting that night.
Sam paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. His gaze locked on Tanner’s. “You’d better keep her safe.”
Tanner inclined his head even as he choked back his rage. Like he needed this jerk to tell him?—
Sam’s attention flickered to Marna. “And if you need me, remember that I’m here. You have an ally in the city.”
There was no missing the surprise on Marna’s face. “Why? Why would you help me?”
“You fell in the middle of my brother’s battle.”
Right, because Sam’s brother was Azrael—Az. The dark fallen angel who’d sent Brandt on a fast trip to hell. The night that Marna lost her wings, Brandt had been intending to kill Az. He’d been the target. Only when the dust from that battle cleared, Az had gotten away, and Marna had been the one to fall.
No. She hadn’t fallen. Tanner knew that. Not really. She’d just never been able to go back home.
Because Brandt had taken her wings with the slice of his claws.
“I owe you,” Sam told her, “and I’ll make sure my debt is paid.”
The wind howled, and the Fallen vanished.
In the silence that followed, Tanner was certain of only one thing. He’d be seeing Hell that night. But first…he slanted a glance over Marna. The glance lingered on her legs. “We’re getting you new clothes.”
“Stay close,” Tanner told her as they headed past the two bouncers stationed outside of Hell. Demons, Marna knew that from just a glance. The guys looked at Tanner and immediately stepped back.
When she and Tanner entered the bar, the blasting music hit her first. The darkness came second. It took Marna a moment to be able to see anything, but then her eyes adjusted and she saw the bodies. Couples hidden in corners. Vampires…drinking from the prey they’d penned against the walls.
Her hand rose to her throat. She’d heard stories about vampires. Some had drained angels dry because they wanted a taste of power. It seemed that angel blood might be the new delicacy of choice among the undead.
Marna sure didn’t want to be on their menu.
She’d be steering clear of the vamps. Marna inched forward and bumped into Tanner’s back. He turned around and frowned down at her.
It was crazy, but she wanted to grab on to his arm and hold tight. This place with its darkness and the evil that she could feel in the air around her—she didn’t want to be here.
Marna licked her lips. “H-how are we going to do this?” They were near the bar now, and that was most definitely not your average alcohol in those decanters. She would not be drinking tonight. “I mean, we can’t just walk up to the first demon we see—” She’d already seen at least ten. “We can’t walk up to him and demand information.”
Sure, she was new to the whole wingless scene, but she realized that wasn’t the way the paranormal world worked. These beings weren’t going to share their secrets out of the goodness of their hearts. From the look of things, goodness was not a key word for any of them.
“Relax.” Tanner wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Why did that make her feel better? “I know how to work this crowd.”
Okay, so having the cop shifter with her wasn’t such a bad thing. She just wished that she didn’t?—
“You smell good.”
A vampire was in her way. Tall, blond. Big fangs. Hungry eyes.
And, for some reason, he seemed familiar to her. But Marna couldn’t quite place him.
He inhaled and those hungry eyes of his widened with pleasure. “Sweet…fresh flowers…” He licked his lips. “And fear.”
Her heart slammed into her ribs. The vampire couldn’t find out what she really was.
Or I’m dead.
“Smells so good.” The vampire took a step toward her and lifted his hand. His gaze seemed to burn through her. “I just want a taste. Just one taste. ”
Tanner grabbed the vamp by the throat and lifted him a good foot into the air. “In a second, you’re gonna be tasting my fist as it’s shoved down your damn throat.”
The vamp was gasping for breath. Vamps had to breathe, just like humans. Their hearts still beat. Their lungs still worked. When a human became a vampire, he only died for a moment, and then was reborn as a bloodsucker. That momentary death was the way the virus spread.
Vampires are mistakes. How many times had she heard that line, coming from those in power upstairs?
Now the vamp was clawing at Tanner’s hand, but the shifter wasn’t letting him go.
“She’s not on the menu, asshole,” Tanner growled. “Remember that.” Then he tossed the vamp back against the bar.
There was no missing the fury that tightened the vampire’s face. “Shifter. You think you can tell me ? —”
In a flash, Tanner had his claws at the vamp’s throat. “I was playing nicely before, but if you want me to cut your head off—right here, right now—I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
Blood trickled down the vamp’s throat. Tanner’s claws had already sliced through the skin. The vampire wasn’t moving any longer. The whole bar was watching. Waiting.
“Off…the menu,” the vampire said slowly. His Adam’s apple scraped against Tanner’s claws as he managed to whisper the words.
“Good fucking vamp.” Tanner stepped back and dropped his claws.
Everyone stopped watching. They went back to blood drinking and making out in their dark corners. She guessed that this crowd liked to see death. If there wasn’t a show, they weren’t interested in watching.
Marna rubbed her arms. While those in the bar might like the danger, she didn’t. She’d seen death for centuries. Wouldn’t it be a nice change to finally see something else?
But maybe happiness was something only humans got to experience. Not the cursed. Not the paranormals. Not me.
The vamp crept away. He tossed a few fast glances over his shoulder.
A shiver shook Marna’s body. She could have sworn that she’d seen him before. “You think he’s going to stay away?”
“I think if he doesn’t, he’ll be minus a head.” Then Tanner put his arm back around her. She tried not to flinch, but his claws were still out, and she couldn’t see a shifter’s claws without remembering agony and terror.
Tanner pulled her flush against him. His head lowered, and his lips brushed against her ear. “Don’t act afraid of me. Don’t pull away.” The words were barely breathed against her.
Did she feel the lick of his tongue on the shell of her ear?
She shivered again, but Marna wasn’t feeling fear right then. Well, she wasn’t afraid of him. All the others in the room, yes, they scared her.
“Let them think you’re mine,” Tanner said, still in that same low whisper. One that she could suddenly imagine in the dark. Would he talk that way if they were alone? His voice low and growling?
Would he sound the same if they were tangled in sheets? Naked?
Stop.
“Because if they think you’re mine, they’ll know to stay the hell away from you.”
She turned her head a few inches. Looked up into his blazing eyes. “I can…take care of myself.” She was an angel of death. She didn’t need him.
Except…why won’t my death touch work? Why couldn’t she still kill? Sammael killed at will. Why couldn’t she?
“I can smell your fear. Smell it with a shifter’s nose that’s ten times stronger than a vamp’s.” He inhaled, like he was sampling her scent. “Fear smells too good to supernaturals. To many of us, that scent is pure temptation.”
To the monsters who liked fear and pain. But Tanner wasn’t like that, right? Wasn’t he the cop? The good guy?
His brother Brandt had been evil, twisted, but Tanner was supposed to be different. That was what he’d told her, when she first woke after her attack. Over and over, he’d promised he was different.
Lie? Or truth?
In that moment, it didn’t matter. She needed him. Marna forced her body to soften and slide against his. His arm tightened even more around her.
“Better.” His voice was more growl than anything else.
His body seemed so warm and hard against hers. Shifters were usually big and muscled, and they’d been known to be some of the deadliest of the paranormals.
So why was she feeling safe with him?
Tanner led her the last few steps to the bar. “Human clubs…paranormal dives. They’re all the same.” He slapped his right hand down on the counter but kept his left arm firmly around her. “You want information, then you always go to the one source in the place who knows every single thing that happens.”
The bartender—a woman with long, curly, red hair and demon-black eyes—strolled toward them. Her eyes widened as she looked at Marna, and a soundless whistle slipped from her lips. “Don’t see too many of your kind.”
Her nails—blood-red and wicked sharp—tapped on the bar. Then her gaze slid from Marna to Tanner. The bartender stiffened, but did a good job of keeping any emotion from slipping across her face.
“I’m sure you see all sorts here,” Tanner said, voice thickening with a drawl that seemed to come and go as he pleased.
Tricky shifter. Was that slow drawl supposed to make him seem harmless? Nothing could pull off that lie. Maybe it was just supposed to make him seem a little less lethal? More good southern boy? Southern shifter?
“Right now,” Tanner continued quietly, “I’m wanting to know if you can give me some information on those…sorts…that you might see.” He kept his hold on Marna, but he leaned toward the bartender.
The redhead lifted a brow. “Information ain’t cheap. You know that, cop.”
So she realized who and what Tanner was? Marna didn’t know if that was good or bad. But either way, Marna decided she needed to step up her game. She wasn’t just going to stand there. “What kind of payment do you want?” Marna demanded. Not that she had any money on her.
The woman’s dark eyes glanced her way. “The kind that will get me out of this shithole before I turn up dead in a dark alley.”
Dead—like the shifters?
“You know, ” Tanner said.
A little shrug lifted the bartender’s shoulders as she grabbed for a glass and began to fill it with a gleaming, gold liquid. “I know two shifters got to meet the devil the other night. Just a few streets away.” Her gaze was back on Tanner, but she added, voice whispering, “And from what I hear, that devil looked a whole lot like the lady you’re holding so tight.” She shoved the glass toward him.
He didn’t drink.
“It wasn’t me,” Marna denied. They weren’t going to pay the demon bartender just for telling them a story that was pure bull.
“A lost, blond angel, looking for some vengeance.” The bartender sighed. “Yep, because there are so many folks like you running around the Quarter.”
Marna stiffened.
The lady poured another drink. This time, she pushed the glass toward Marna. “I’ve just got to know.” She smirked. “What’d you do to fall?”
Marna leapt forward, more ready to jump right across that bar. Nothing. I shouldn’t have been forced here. I ? —
Tanner pulled her back even as the bartender let out a little gasp and slammed back against the glasses on the wall. “Don’t touch me!” the redhead cried out and this time, she didn’t keep the blank mask on her face.
Fear.
So someone was finally afraid. And it isn’t me. Right then, Marna was too angry—too pissed, as Sammael would have said—to be afraid. I didn’t fall. I didn’t break the rules.
But she was still in hell.
Pissed. Being angry was much better than being afraid. Fear was for the weak. She didn’t want to be weak. “Better watch it,” Marna fired to the redhead as she shook off Tanner’s hold. “I hear the monsters in this place love the scent of fear.”
The bartender swallowed as she pried herself off the wall of glasses. She glanced around and flushed when she realized that others had seen her.
Even in Hell, it was hard to miss a scream.
“Meet me out back,” she told them, grabbing up another glass and a bottle of gold liquid before turning away. “You can tell me what you’ll pay, and maybe I’ll tell you what I know.”
“There’s no maybe, ” Tanner stated, voice flat
The redhead kept walking away from them. “Then make the price high enough.” She disappeared through a pair of swinging, double doors.
And she left them in Hell.
Cadence LaVert kept a smirk on her face until she entered the back room of Hell. Then she tightened her fist around the glass in her hand, and it shattered.
Sonofabitch.
That angel had almost touched her.
No fucking way. Cadence wasn’t ready for death. She’d screwed up too many times. Nothing good waited for her on the other side.
Before she bit the dust, she had to make some kind of amends.
Maybe for the lover she’d murdered.
But he’d had it coming. Trying to beat her, trying to hurt her. Bill hadn’t realized just what he’d been dealing with. Before he’d died, he’d known. She’d made sure of it.
Cadence lifted the bottle to her lips and gulped. She barely felt the burn as the liquid rolled down her throat.
Ten thousand? Would that be enough cash? She knew about the cop shifter. The guy who tried to play good with the humans but who was really just as fucked up as the rest of the supernaturals in New Orleans.
He had some cash, she was sure of it. He could give her money. She could split town, and the world would keep right on going. As if she’d never even existed.
A sweet scent teased her nose. Freaking flowers. That angel.
“I told you to meet me outside!” Cadence swung around.
No one was there.
Just boxes. A rat scurrying around. Dust.
Her heart was racing. She’d made a mistake. Been in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But when she’d gone to that alley, she’d never known what was going to happen. She’d just needed to make a purchase. Needed to buy a few drugs to get her through the night.
Demons needed drugs. As far as Cadence was concerned, that was a simple fact. She had to use her drugs. Otherwise, she couldn’t shut out the voices in her head.
One of those voices had made her kill her father when she was twelve. The voice had told her that daddy wanted to do bad things to her. Such very, very bad things.
She’d stopped him. He hadn’t been able to hurt her.
The same voice had told her about Bill’s dark side. How he liked to hurt women. To hit until you couldn’t move. She’d ignored the voice at first.
But the voice had been right. Her bruises and broken bones had proved its truth soon enough.
The voice was quiet tonight. The drugs were still in her system. The drugs muted all the voices that wanted to whisper to her about the wicked things in the world.
I’m wicked.
She’d gotten the drugs from the alley. Seen the death that waited for those two panther shifters.
I saw what you did. She’d never be able to forget that night.
Now it was time to collect and get out of there. The shifter and his angel should have made it around to the back of Hell by now. She could slip out, make her deal, and get away.
Cadence dropped the bottle. It spilled on the floor, a long, wet stain, and the rat scurried toward it. Cadence grabbed her bag. There’d be no missing this shithole for her.
She yanked open the back door. Slipped out into the night. The air was hot. Always was, down in this freaking pit. Maybe she’d go someplace up north. Someplace where it actually snowed. She’d never seen real snow. Wouldn’t that be a kick?
Careful…
That whisper came from her own mind. The voice was waking up. Dammit. No. Not now.
Cadence shoved her hand into her bag. She had a few more white pills left. They’d shut up the voice. Buy her more time.
Blood. That horrible whisper again.
She couldn’t find the damn pills.
Blood on the dirty bricks. Blood on the ground. Can’t scream. Can’t ? —
Her fingers closed around one small pill. She shoved it in her mouth and swallowed. Her hands were shaking, but that wasn’t new. When the voice screamed so loudly in her mind—or even when it whispered—her hands trembled.
But the pill was in her body now. Her heart rate began to slow. The drug always worked fast. After a moment, the voice fell silent.
It was just her now. Alone in the night.
Cadence sucked in a few quick breaths. Where was the shifter? He’d better show up and get ready to hand over some serious cash. Because if he wanted to hear all the juicy bits that she had to share, he’d need to?—
“Hello, Cadence.”
She stiffened. Impossible. That voice—it belonged to a dead man. She knew. She’d put Bill in the ground herself. Dug the grave and dumped his sorry ass inside and left him in the middle of the woods.
“Why don’t you come here…” Bill’s voice invited from the darkness, “and give me a kiss, baby girl?”
Her blood iced. That was Bill’s voice. When she turned, she saw him walking from the shadows. Bill. With his balding head, his tattoos, and the slightly crooked smile that had disarmed her from the first moment she met him.
I didn’t see the monster. That smile had blinded her.
Bill had been human. She’d thought that meant he was safe. Too late, she’d learned how vicious humans could be.
Bill stalked toward her. Cadence didn’t move. She couldn’t move.
Sunglasses covered his eyes. Sunglasses. In the darkness. He’d always done that. Tried to act like those stupid sunglasses made him seem tough. Scary.
He’d been plenty scary to her at the end.
“B-Bill?” What the hell? Had he turned vamp on her? That was the only thing that made sense. He must’ve been a vamp before she buried him. Tricky asshole. And here she’d been feeling all guilty for murdering the prick.
His arms grabbed her and pulled her against him. “I’ve missed you,” he said. His hands hurt. That was nothing new. His hammy hands always liked to hurt her.
She hadn’t missed him.
Then she realized that he didn’t smell the same. Not like stale cigarettes and old beer. Not even that musky scent human males always seemed to carry.
She pushed away and stared up at him as terror clawed its way through her. With a flash of her hand, she knocked his stupid sunglasses away.
Run.
The voice in her head was back. Too late.
She didn’t see the knife, not at first. But Cadence felt the blade as it sliced through her skin. Sliced so deep that it stole her breath as it cut open her throat.
Blood flew around her and splattered onto the old bricks. Onto the dirt. She tried to scream, but couldn’t.
Her voice was gone.
Cadence’s body fell to the ground. She was on her stomach and trying to crawl with her last bit of strength.
“Fucking bitch. You aren’t telling anybody about me.”
Then the knife plunged into her back.
Can’t scream.
There’d be no time to make amends. Cadence felt death coming for her.
No time?—