28. Juliette
Juliette
PEST CONTROL
The town is nice enough. It isn’t France, but it will do for the time being.
When Scotty and I step foot in the Hills, as the local denizens call it, we make a beeline for a dusty motel.
Fortunately, the people who reside here mind their own business and do not ask many questions.
Good for us, but we quickly realize there is a downside.
The motel manager is a werebear and thus unable to be enthralled.
“Those tricks won’t work on us,” the grizzled man says. I suspect he’s in his late forties, with graying hair and a beard so long it would put Santa Claus to shame. “But I can tell you two are in some trouble. Coming from Sugardove, are you?”
Scotty nods and leans against the reception desk. “There’s … an uptick in Templar and Helsing activity.”
The man’s jaw sets as he looks between us with his bleary eyes. It’s then I notice one of his eyes is completely opaque, with a scar over it. Not entirely surprising, considering what he is. I say nothing in response and wait for the man’s judgment.
“Now, we have a few rules here,” he says. “Which you two will follow if you want to remain here. Or else.”
It doesn’t take much imagination to understand what the ‘or else’ is. We both nod in unison.
“No biting the shifters,” he says, his voice taking on a steely edge. “Ever. You want to eat, you find another way.”
“Understood,” Scotty says quickly.
“I mean it. We catch whiff that you bloodsuckers even thought about touching one of our pack, we will tie you to a stake in the middle of town and let you two burn in the sun. We may be understanding of your predicament, but we aren’t pushovers.”
Scotty’s throat bobs. “Got it, sir. Anything else?”
He nods. “Yeah. I assume you don’t have any money. So, I’m willing to cut you two a deal. You take care of our pests here in town, we’ll let you stay as long as you want.”
“Seems easy enough,” Scotty says, looking at me. I shrug. “What kind of pests? You got a rat problem? I guess that would kill two birds with one stone. We’ll avoid starvation and get a room out of it.”
“No,” the werebear says, and crosses his arms over his barrel chest. This guy is enormous. Bigger than any human I’ve ever seen back in the city. “Our pests are … a bit bigger than rats. We have a problem with some harpies roosting in the cliffs. You take ’em out, we’ll be happy with you two.”
My brows knit together. Harpies are never seen in the city for obvious reasons. They prefer to stick to cliffs and caves. “Wait, why have you not taken care of them yourselves?”
The werebear’s eyes narrow as he addresses me.
“We aren’t setting you up to fail. Don’t you two worry ’bout that.
They roost up too damn high. Their nests are deeper in the Hills and up in the cliffs.
Figure you two can probably fly, right?” He looks between the two of us, and I frown.
“Unless the stories about your kind aren’t true after all. ”
“Only I have the ability,” I say. “Only the oldest vampires can fly.”
“I see,” he says, then chews the inside of his cheek.
“We can work out the logistics,” Scotty adds, looking at me. “Don’t worry about it. I can manage.”
“If you’re sure,” I say, and he nods. “I can always lure them down, I suppose.”
“Yeah, whatever you two need to do to knock ’em out.” The werebear turns around, grabs a key hanging from the holder, and slides it across the desk. “Your room’s number eight. I’m Rob. You need anything, just come by. I’m usually here. If I’m not, Lily might be. She’s my niece.”
“Got it,” Scotty says, pocketing the key immediately. “Thank you.”
I manage a small smile at the bear. “Yes, thank you for your hospitality.”
Rob nods, then turns back toward the television mounted on the wall. “See you two around,” he says.
That’s that, I guess. We are officially residents of Pinecrest Hills—in exchange for a little bit of labor.
A week later, Scotty and I are at the foot of the cliffs in the middle of a torrential rainstorm.
The wind’s howls are deafening, and we must rely on our other senses to communicate.
Since our arrival, we have only managed to slay one harpy out of dozens.
The creatures are maddening, with their sharp teeth and even sharper claws.
And their feathers … ugh. Their feathers smell of damp leaves and decaying corpses.
My bones crunch against the howling wind, and Scotty watches as I turn into my ghastly bat shape for the third time this week.
“I don’t know if we should bother,” he yells over the storm. The rain makes his hair stick to his face and get in his eyes. “This storm is too dangerous, love.”
He’s right. The storm is too dangerous. But the werebears are already growing impatient with us.
Clearly, they expected us to wipe out the harpy nests within a couple of days of our arrival.
It took a lot out of me, performing the sanctuary blood ritual in the motel room, and I would prefer not to have to do it again so soon. We need that room.
I bite my lower lip as I pump my wings, flexing them. “Then go back to the room and wait for me!” I yell back. “You don’t need to be out here!”
Scotty shakes his head. “I won’t leave you!”
“They can’t hurt me!”
It’s true. They cannot. As nasty as they are, the harpies are as dangerous as mice to me.
Yes, they may bite, and it stings when they do, but they cannot kill me.
Besides, the weather reporter predicted heavy rain and wind for the next week, and I am sure our hosts won’t simply give us the time off to wait for better hunting weather. No, this needs to be done now.
“I’ll wait for you down here,” he calls out, and I nod before taking to the air.
The harpies dislike rain as much as we do, and have taken to roosting within their cliffside caves this evening.
When I let out a powerful screech to alert them of my presence, several harpies fly out of their hovels to attack me in the air.
They snatch at me with their claws, and I grab on to them with mine, then throw them down into the dirt below.
Lying in wait, Scotty descends on one of the harpies immediately, ripping out its throat.
We make a good team. But that isn’t surprising, considering what we did to the Helsings.
I throw more harpies into the ground below until none remain.
If there are other harpies remaining, they are wisely avoiding a confrontation.
They know I won’t venture inside their caves to find them, so why they are stupid enough to engage me out here, I’ll never understand. Merde, they are stupid creatures.
I’m about to head back down to where Scotty is waiting when I hear the beating of wings behind me. Blinking, I turn around to look, but I’m too slow. Enormous black claws grab me by my wings, and my captor flies off to the tops of the cliffs.
I let out a terrified screech, and Scotty cries out for me down below. “Juliette!” I hear him yell.
“Enculé! Let me go!” I cry, but the monstrosity holds me fast.
When we finally land, whatever is holding me doesn’t release me right away.
I whimper as I try to free my wings from the creature’s talons.
Though my night vision is excellent, it’s as though I’m being held by the void itself.
The swath of darkness lets out a familiar-sounding chuckle, and my entire body freezes.
“I told you that I’d always find you, little dove,” he says in his thick accent. The one I could never place. I’d ask every week, yet he never told me…
“Dante,” I breathe, still unable to move, too paralyzed by the shock.
“So, she does remember me after all,” he says, finally releasing my wings.
I fold them back into myself as he shrinks down to his vampire form.
But I do not do the same. He cracks his neck from side to side as the last of his bones slide back into place, and then he smiles.
I can see his pearly white fangs in the darkness. “Did you miss me?”
How can I even answer that question? I’m not even sure what he’s doing here right now. Up until seconds ago, I thought he was dead for centuries.
“You’re speechless,” he says, and takes a step forward. I step back, nearly stumbling on a rock. “Brings back memories. Remember when you couldn’t speak? The fire destroyed your throat, but I fixed you. I brought you back from the brink. Do you not remember, Juliette?”
“That was Selene’s blood,” I say, and inwardly curse myself. How could those be the first words spoken to my maker in centuries?
He shakes his head, and a malicious sneer spreads across his lips. “And Selene was turned by me. By extension, it was I who healed you. And it was I who saved you. And yet…”
I beat my wings, wanting to fly away … but blood weeps from my flesh. I can’t fly. He made sure of it. Putain!
No matter how much time has passed between us, Dante always has the upper hand. Always. I curse myself, and then him.
“You’re ungrateful,” he says, his smile disappearing. “You betrayed me. You betrayed your sister! Now she and the rest of our household are dead.”
Good. As they should be. Selene was a monster who force fed me for years. And the other servants were just as complicit in my torture, so they can burn in Hell, too, for all I care.
“I did nothing,” I hiss.
Dante thrusts a bony claw at my chest. “Precisely! You did nothing while your family was tortured, burned, and killed! You fled, and then even had the temerity to return later to revel in the ashes!”
I blink. “I did not ‘revel,’ as you put it! I left because you would not let me have an inch of freedom!”
Dante disappears in a mist of darkness only to reappear behind me. He grabs my waist, pinning me to his chest, and then drags his fangs along my neck. “You did not yet deserve your freedom, little dove. Freedom is earned.”
“Selene was in your service for centuries and never earned her freedom. What hope did I ever have?” I rasp as I wriggle against his hateful grasp. “How did you even survive? I found your ashes! Your scent was all over them!”
“Yes, yes, a clever ruse,” he murmurs in my ear.
“To trick the humans into thinking they bested me in the fire. Foolish girl. I burned off one of my fingers and left it in the ashes. It worked too well, I see, because my little dove was fooled, too. Or perhaps you are still just as stupid as you were all those years ago.”
My throat tightens. I need to get away from him before he kills me, because he will kill me. The years have driven him to madness, it seems, and this will not end well for me. And then he’ll track down Scotty.
Oh, my poor, sweet, Scotty … I hope he’s left for the motel by now. I need to find some way to lead Dante away from here so he can’t find him.
“Centuries of trying to track you down, and I finally find you slumming it with shifters.” Dante’s words lash against my ear like a whip.
Tears sting the back of my eyes. I never should have left the sewers. Never should have put Scotty at risk.
“And that boy you’re with—”
My eyes spring open.
“What’s his name? Scott Lovelace? Turned in 1985 by Sherman Davies, I believe. A drunk and a nuisance. No doubt his spawn are the same.”
I swallow. “H-How? How do you know all of this?”
“You never were very bright.” Dante tuts gently, shaking his head.
“Foolish girl. I have ruled over fifteen vampiric nations across the world, including Mystella’s.
Flushing you out of hiding with the Templars worked as well as I hoped it would.
” He runs a claw along my throat. I’m too exhausted to hold this form any longer, and I shrink back down into my vampire form.
My bones snap and crunch, and Dante holds me through the transformation.
It’s almost too much to withstand. “Beautiful little dove … you need not run from me any longer.”
I let out a hacking, bloody cough as he holds me in his arms.
“Are you going to kill me?” The words tumble out of my mouth along with a trickle of blood.
“Kill you?” Dante’s gaze narrows. “I have thought about it. Have fantasized what I would do once I found you. Your broken body decorating my throne room at last.”
I close my eyes again as more tears come.
“But now I realize … all I’ve ever wanted was my daughter back. I love you, Juliette. Can’t you see that?” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “This isn’t love. It was never love.”
Dante places a claw along my lower lip, tracing it. “Shh, shh. What would you know about love?”
I’m about to answer him when the shrieking of a dozen harpies pierces the air. And then, without warning, the entire flock descends on us in a flurry of feathers, claws, and foul-smelling dander.