CHAPTER 4
Rue
Shouldering the door open, I step outside into the cool night air, wishing I had brought a jacket with me for the walk. The days are still blazing hot, but the nights are turning colder, which is fine with me. Besides, I’ve always been a bit of a night owl. I’m sure it has something to do with my witch heritage and how my ancestors used to dance naked under the moon.
Speaking of which, the full moon is almost upon us. It’s high in the sky and only missing a tiny sliver from being full. I estimate another night or two and it’ll be complete.
My black booties tap against the pavement as I walk across The Growl’s parking lot. I glance both ways when I get to the edge of the highway but there aren’t any headlights in sight, so I figure I’m safe from getting hit by a car. Eventually, I turn onto a sidewalk that leads to the entrance of the motel.
Rosie’s motel, the sign reads. The bricks are painted a slight tinge of pink and there’s a mural on the side with roses spread across, which is fitting with the name, I guess. It’s cute in an eccentric sort of way. The complete opposite of the darker vibes down the road.
A shiver runs down my spine as a cool breeze blows by, seeping into my bones. The distinct feel of eyes watching me prickles along my spine and every hair on my body stands on end. My pace quickens as the urge to run overtakes me. I don’t know where it’s coming from other than my body is screaming that I’m in danger. I glance around the deserted motel, but it’s dark out and witches don’t have the eyesight or abilities of fae, shifters, and vampires. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary but the feeling along my spine persists.
Just as I round the corner of the building and spot the entrance, thinking I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, an arm wraps across my middle and yanks me sideways. I’m disoriented as I’m slammed into the brick mural on the side of the building. Try as I might to catch myself, I’m like a baby calf getting my footing for the first time and my head cracks against the wall. A blinding pain blooms behind my eyelids and a terrified gasp escapes me.
My eyes snap open and once they focus, I jolt. I’m staring directly into the dead gaze of a man with his hand around my neck. His eyes are completely red around the irises and his skin is a sickly gray pallor. Clearly, there’s something wrong with him, and the building is cloaked in shadows from the side with only a small overhead light illuminating my assailant, making him that much more ominous.
The man grins at me, flashing me his teeth, and that’s when his fangs descend. He’s a fucking vampire. Oh, witch’s tits, I’m so screwed. They have strength that’s on a whole other level than witches, especially for a witch like me whose power is so miniscule. Vampires have enhanced sight, super strength, and speed, then depending on the vampire, some are gifted with other abilities.
Panic washes through me and the need to get away is so fierce. I slam my knee into his crotch, knowing if he manages to bite me, I’m dead, but the kick doesn’t faze him whatsoever. “Get off of me, you fanged fucker!” I shout, shoving and writhing against his hold. When he doesn’t acknowledge me, I try again, “What do you want with me?” Nothing.
I give it all I got, trying my damndest to keep his fucking fangs from sinking into my neck, knowing a vampire bite is automatically a death sentence for a witch. We can’t turn into vampires. The magic in our system doesn’t allow it and it’s a horrible, awful death. But my strength is nothing compared to his and my struggle is wasting energy, but that’s the only thing keeping him partially at bay right now.
Did I mention I’m screwed?
Everything’s happening so fast. There’s not enough time to think, so I act. Lifting my boot to my hand, I slip my knife out and pop open the blade with fumbling fingers. Life in New Orleans—or any big city in general—is not always sunshine and rainbows. Therefore, I always come prepared… though, I’ve never had to pull it before, and my hands shake from the adrenaline pumping through me.
Tightening my grip, I hold it between us when he gives me an opening. “I said, get off me, whatever the fuck you are.” Still, even with my knife aimed toward the vampire’s jugular, he doesn’t acknowledge me. Truthfully, I can’t tell if there’s anything even controlling his brain anymore, like the beast has taken him over completely and he’s salivating at the prospect of making me his next meal.
“Last chance, dude. I’m not afraid to use this thing!” I totally am, but he doesn’t have to know that. Instead of getting off me, he hisses, and my blade knicks him. That only seems to enrage the beast further and he flashes me his yellowing fangs, blasting me with his god-awful breath. I jerk the knife in his direction once more, already knowing it won’t do much to hurt him because vampires can only be killed with a stake to the heart or having their heads severed from their body, but I have to try anyway. It might give me the few precious seconds I need to escape.
The beast phases away and my blade cuts through empty air. A frustrated scream leaves me, and I take off running, but the fae shot has kicked in by now and my movements are sluggish. I almost trip but manage to right myself as I dash for the road. “Help! Somebody, help me!”
The vampire rushes me and slams me against the wall again, dashing all my hopes for an escape. Especially when he snatches my wrists. His grip is so tight, I’m forced to drop my knife—my only salvation. The fanged fucker applies pressure until there’s a sickening pop and pain explodes up my arm. A cry escapes me when he lets go and it hangs limply at my side. The asshole broke my fucking wrist! And he still has a firm hold on the other one. I’m completely defenseless.
God, of all the witchin’ luck in the universe, this is mine. Why does the world hate me so?
Suddenly, the vampire stops to sniff the air, inhaling deeply, eyes zeroing in with those crazed orbs on the bit of blood dripping from where my elbows kissed the rough bricks, and I didn’t even realize it. He turns that deranged grin back on me, and I swear I catch a bit of mold in his mouth. Or something even nastier I don’t even want to imagine. Especially with all the dark places my drunk mind could go. “Ccccuurrsssed one,” he greets in a voice that sounds like he swallows nails for breakfast daily, that’s how rough it is. It’s guttural and unnatural from disuse.
“Cursed one?” I echo, but the vampire doesn’t elaborate.
I study his elongated features, his torn and dirty clothes, his gray skin, and red eyes... Could this be a feral vampire? I’ve heard about them, but we don’t have issues with them in the city. Once again, it’s exactly my luck that I’d run into one and he happens to think I’m his next blood bag.
Quick as a striking snake, the vampire’s mouth descends toward my neck, and since he’s still holding my good hand hostage and the other is broken, there’s nothing I can do but thrash and try to shake him off, but this time it’s no use and my head is completely spinning from the action. I’m totally fucked. I could kick my past self for thinking I could handle a fae shot.
As soon as he bites me, his venom will act as a paralytic. My body will enter a sluggish state and my magic will be rendered even more useless than it already is.
Blinding agony explodes through me as the vampire’s teeth sink into my neck. According to the lore, in some cases, vampire venom can be erotic, but this couldn’t be further from the case. Scream after scream erupts from my throat the longer he yanks my life force from my body. Not even the shots are enough to mask the pain.
Eventually, all I can muster is a whimper. My body is tingly and heavy and judging by the way my hands look; I’m losing my color. Would it be too much to ask to be able to go home? Curl up in my tiny apartment in the city and pretend this day never happened? That my best friends didn’t ditch me and I’m not, you know, dying?
What will happen to my apartment and all my things? If I could, I would laugh at my silly thoughts. My last moments of living and all I can think about are my measly possessions? Will anyone even miss me?
For some reason, my mind drifts to Rhys. Will he remember me? His blue eyes flash in my mind, the lazy grace he exudes, and the feel of his tongue against my throat. The thought of him alone is enough to send a pang of regret through my heart, enough though I barely know him or understand why one of my last thoughts is of him. I wish I would’ve stayed at the bar and waited to see if he’d come back. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this mess.
There are so many things I wish I could’ve done. I’m nowhere near finished with my life, but as my vision darkens around the edges, I instinctively know this is it. My eyelids flutter shut, my body slackens, and I let go, fucking hating myself for being so weak.