Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
The Shifter King dropped me at a hotel located in a cluster of shopping and other lodging. As soon as his truck pulled out and his taillights disappeared, I stepped out of the lobby and walked across the street to a different hotel, where I got a room for the night.
Better safe than sorry was the motto that would keep me alive.
As soon as I was safe inside my room, I dropped my bag and face-planted onto the bed, letting out a muffled scream against the blankets. Once I’d gotten that out of my system, I rummaged for my cell and texted Cat.
Trusting anyone had gotten exponentially harder, but I had no intentions of telling her about the virus. All I wanted was to pick her brain about the books she’d given me, books I’d tucked into my duffle with plans to study them later this evening.
Cat didn’t want to video call. She had me share my location and showed up twenty minutes later wearing pajamas and holding a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.
The eclectic witch breezed in and went straight to the desk, where she cracked open the wine and poured us both a hefty measure. Then she turned to me, grimaced, and held out the wine glass.
“You look like shit,” she announced.
I let out a surprised laugh. “It’s been an interesting day.”
Cat grabbed the wine bottle, set it on the nightstand, then kicked off her slippers and climbed onto my bed, plumping up the pillows behind her.
I was beginning to realize Cat had few boundaries.
But I was too tired to care. I did the same, and when we were both on the bed, I finally began to relax.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
I glanced at her, the urge to tell her almost overflowing inside me.
Her face softened. “Trust is a difficult thing to earn. But haven’t we already formed that bond?” At my lifted brow, she snorted. “Neither one of us are in jail, are we? You gave me more trust than I gave you.” Cat sighed. “Hell, you didn’t even know what I looked like.”
“Mmm,” I agreed and took a long drink of wine. “True.” I let out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”
Cat grabbed the bottle and topped me up. “I might be able to help. Try me.”
I took another drink of wine and started to cry.
Cat’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh no. Alex.” She scooted over and held out an arm, gently wrapping it around me.
I buried my face in my hands. “I think I killed the Prime tonight.”
She went still. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I think I misheard you. Did you say you killed the Prime? As in the Vampire Prime?”
I nodded miserably.
Cat let out a shocked giggle. Then another. Then snorted and broke into hysterical laughter.
I looked up at her in shock. Cat’s nose was wrinkled, and tears flowed down her face. She let out a wheeze and kept laughing.
I sat up. “Cat?”
She held up a hand. “I— I’m sorry. It’s just—Alric is such an asshole. Most of the supernatural population has wanted to kill him for ages. And a little mysterious hedgewitch accomplished what the most powerful supernaturals on the planet never could?” Cat wheezed again. “It’s poetic.”
I let out my own little laugh. “I’m not sure he’s dead. But I think he’s definitely hurt.”
“Still.” She held her stomach. “Oh my God.” She laughed a few more times before finally getting herself under control. “Alright.” She nodded. “How about we order food and talk this out?”
I nodded. “Sounds good. I’m starving.”
Cat was a good listener. She took everything I said at face value, her face not betraying an ounce of disbelief or skepticism. Occasionally, she butted in to ask a question, but other than that, she let me spill the entire story with minimal interruption.
When I finished, she slowly shook her head. “Well. Sounds like you’re in a real pickle, aren’t you?”
“Cat,” I groaned.
The witch snickered and refilled my wine glass. “I have good and bad news. Both are the same. Alric is likely not dead. The bastard is like a cockroach. He stubbornly refuses to die. I can think of six attempts on his life just this past quarter.”
I let out a slow whistle. “Why does everyone hate him?”
Cat shrugged. “He’s loyal to the vampires to a fault and beyond bribery.
In some ways, he’d be a good president for the humans if they ever allowed supes to run, but our society runs on backroom deals.
I’ve never met the Prime. Like you, I prefer to stay under the radar, but I’ve heard he’s the most powerful vampire in the country right now.
” She took a huge bite of her pasta and chewed thoughtfully.
“We all know how much witches shun power,” she said a moment later.
“Alric is smart and brutal. He knows how to stay alive.”
Relief filled me at her words. I didn’t want to have killed Alric. Doing so would bring the weight of the entire supernatural world down upon my head. I only wanted him to leave me alone.
“But,” Cat said with a lazy wave of her beringed hand, “let’s forget about Alric and focus on you.” She reached for the books I’d put on my nightstand and opened them up. “You’ve obviously leveled up. Let’s see if we can figure out why.”
I went to work the next morning feeling like a cat walking on tinfoil—nervous and tweaked out. Every time the shop door opened, I expected Alric to walk in and rip my throat out.
But the shop was as normal as a supernatural coffee shop could be. We had normal customers, tourists, and the occasional weirdo, but no Alric, no Vesper, and no Silas.
After Addy and the others went home for the day, and I was the only one left behind to close, I finally began to relax.
Just in time for the alarm over the door to flare red.
I racked my brain. Had I locked the door? My heart kicked into a panicked beat, the thud against my ribs turning to a roar inside my head.
Quinn was nowhere to be found today, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t here. “Hide,” I said, my voice low and urgent. “Do not come out until I tell you it’s safe.”
Silence was the only answer.
It could be anyone outside. That’s what I kept repeating in my head like a prayer. Powerful people always triggered the alarm. It might not go off often, but there were times when a power player walked through our doors and all they wanted was a shot of caffeine.
We had no blinds on the doors or windows, only decorative curtains we kept pulled back and fastened with pretty ropes. Addy liked customers being able to peer in to see what was going on or to view our specials board. If this were Beckett, maybe she’d change her mind in the future.
He would definitely not be here just for caffeine.
I stepped out from behind the register and slipped into the back, keeping an eye out through the small window to see who stepped up.
A full minute passed. The door charm died down and went neutral. I closed my eyes and released an extended, slow breath and waited a little longer.
When the charm didn’t flare again, I slumped against the door, relief filling my veins. I waited another full minute before slipping back into the main seating area.
I still had to sweep and mop and restock for tomorrow.
Shouldn’t take me more than an hour, but I hoped to speed it up so I didn’t have to walk back to my car in the dark.
Not with the Prime still suspiciously silent and Beckett out there doing the gods knew what.
I wasn’t dumb enough to believe I was safe in the daylight, but dark things prowled in the night, and people paid a lot less attention when the lights were dim.
I liked to think people, supernatural or human, were good at heart, but I knew better. If something went down and the Prime was involved, ninety-nine percent of the population would look the other way.
Beckett made things more iffy. A random vampire attack might trigger someone’s deep-seated good Samaritan instincts.
Either way, I was in deep shit if one of them showed up this evening.
I grabbed the broom and focused on sweeping the floor, grimacing at all the gross things people left behind. When that was done, I did a thorough mop job, getting in all the nooks and crannies the other baristas failed to clean.
I straightened, wiped the sweat off my brow, and put the mop back into the bucket. Everything after that became methodical, all done with muscle memory. Restock all the cups, wipe down all the machines, refill the milk and cream, etc., etc., etc.
Half an hour later, I stood in the middle of the shop, grinning at a job well done. I don’t think I’d ever been so efficient in my life.
Amazing what a healthy dose of fear could do for one’s productivity.
I took off my apron, tucked it inside my bag, and grabbed my keys and purse.
Weak daylight still cast an orange glow through the parking lot. I had enough light left to hurry to my car and maybe even get home before full night fell.
Keys in hand, I came out from behind the counter.
The spell let out a loud shriek and flared red. A dark shadow slammed against the window. Once. Twice.
The third time, the glass shattered.
I dropped my keys and bag and whirled around, desperately flinging myself toward the back door, but Beckett was there, blocking my way.
He looked awful. Whatever I’d done to him the last time had ruined his face, turning his once beautiful countenance into a melted mess of skin and cartilage.
He should have healed by now. Vampires could heal even a mortal wound if they got blood in time. The only thing sure to kill them was a rowan stake through the heart (in most cases) and beheading. But Beckett hadn’t healed. If anything, he looked worse.
On the day of the attack, he’d fled before I could see the damage I’d done. I never would have expected this. Half his face looked like the ruins of a melted candle.
His eye sagged, sitting two inches lower than his other. His mouth dragged downward on one side, the sight sending an image of a sad, creepy clown straight to my brain. The damage flowed to his neck, the smooth flesh now a map of scars and rough edges.
“What, Alex?” he hissed, his voice a sibilant slur. “You don’t think I’m pretty anymore?”