13. CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 13
Noa
Seeing Ago was a visual punch to the gut. The black oily hair. Gold chains glittering at his throat. He was turning away, searching the crowd, and I stumbled backward, breathing in the stench of overheated males and sickening perfumes. The scents of alcohol and sex, of onions and garlic—gods, what good was the fucking garlic?
Gods-damn vampires were in Westvale. Despite Anson’s wards.
Ago, on his vicious quest to claim what I’d offered before I nearly syphoned him into oblivion. I’d left him pinned to a wall—but that was my mistake, trusting vampires. Believing he’d still be on that wall.
I stumbled, fighting the nausea. To my left, a club door opened, and raucous laughter poured out while three boisterous, leering jerks shouldered me inside. I was part of their group. Claimed by alphas, but nothing like Grayson or Mace. Anson. The lesser alphas preened and postured, no different from the frat boys I’d known in college. Pretty boys who swore their dicks were a fast track to nirvana.
“Buy you a drink?” One male grinned, their leader, judging by the arrogance. He tipped his head, winked with a slow smile that no doubt won him many, many females.
I forced space between us. “Not interested.”
“We can go somewhere private if that’s what you need.” He dragged a finger down my coat-covered arm with enough pressure that I flinched. “I’ll make it good for you, baby. Don’t worry. Deep and slow. Or hard and…”
The male leaned in, pressed his gods-damned nose beneath my ear and inhaled, only to stumble back, shock widening his eyes. “Sorry. Sorry! I thought…”
He hissed as he backtracked, his palms raised. I imagined the warning racing through their pack bond because his friends paled, then spilled their beer in a hasty retreat.
Grayson’s scent … And these wolves were smart enough to realize the peril. They didn’t have to guess how an alpha would react to stupid males encroaching on his territory. How he killed.
How a dread lord killed.
I rubbed at the ruined wolf rune, allowed a shaky, vindictive smile as I kept moving. Wished Grayson’s scent had the same effect on vampires.
Where was he? I missed him, missed hearing his voice, soft in my head. The way he said Bedisa like a caress. He’d hate this club. Hate the noise and the press of bodies. But he’d hate it more because he’d be unable to relax, step out of his Alpha role. Grayson would always meet any threat head-on, no matter what it cost him.
Music blared with a monotonous beat. High-pitched laughter held the hollowness of desperation. A girl twirled by in a black dress with silver sequins, her heels so high she wobbled. Or else it was whatever she kept drinking, tipping her head, waving her empty glass, which was immediately refilled.
I’d been like that years ago, denying the pain in disappointment. I pushed the edge in Seattle clubs. Pretending I was normal, lost in the mindless beat of the music. The foggy, dizzy world of not giving a damn.
The pull was hard to resist, even now. It took effort to move, hide, then weave a path across the crowded dance floor. Male hands grabbed. Females scowled. Sparks stung at my fingertips as I syphoned without even trying, pulling in the heat like a desolate creature preparing to fight. My gaze skittered and jumped, searching for threatening faces. Emotions. For a way out.
I kept pushing, pushing past tables, chairs, bodies crowding. No corners, Noa. Surely this club had a back door for the trash.
The cluster of men against the bar ignored those dancing on the checkered floor. Neon lights were timed to the music, flicking through the colors—rose, violet, teal blue. Then blinding red—this club was the Red Moon, exclusive. The club I’d first noticed weeks ago because of the crowd lined up outside, waiting to get in. A place Fallon would never go.
I spied a darkened hall, scanned with a faille’s urgency. Only bathrooms, a storeroom, a door to the kitchen. And an exit; I slammed my hands against the metal panic bar on the door, hearing an alarm as I stumbled outside. The alley stank of spoiling food. Ankle-deep snow hadn’t been cleared. Within seconds, my shoes were soaked, and each numbed step I took left long, scraping gouges through the slush. Anyone with half a brain and two good eyes could follow the trail if they’d tracked me through the club.
Distant howling jolted me, proof that Ago hadn’t come alone. The incident with the car and the boys—no doubt, the boys hit one of Barend’s hybrids, and the rest had joined the hunt. More of those surging, keening shadows that chased us through the tunnel beneath High Citadel, killing Njal. Even the rocks collapsing had not stopped them… not completely.
With the silence, in the dark, imagination flared. Each flash of movement or shifting shadow had my heart pounding. I ran, but not fast enough. Left the Dock District behind, but not far enough.
Pools of light from the distant lampposts caught the snowflakes softly falling, fireflies against the night. Each gasp of air rasped through my throat with a buzz-saw intensity. The peaty tang of the Claw alerted me first to the black water, shimmering with ghostly ice crusting along the riverbank.
Ahead, the empty boat sheds loomed darkly. The river’s current knocked a loose board against the pier, the thumping dull and random. An inch of snow covered the park benches. But the landmarks settled me. I’d run along this walkway before, the night I imagined seeing Julien’s face in the crowd…
Anson’s compound was minutes away, if I kept the speed up. Didn’t slow. Or stop. My feet skidded on the freezing pavement. I kept going, past the derelict piers. The stubby logs covered with slime and scabby layers of ice and snow.
A sickening laugh echoed, taunting from behind as Ago materialized on the walkway, a shape emerging from the mist. Avid delight twisted his smile.
“Run faster,” he crooned before disappearing.
My inhale shuddered when he reappeared yards ahead. Vampires teleported to where they wanted to be. Julien had taken me places often enough; I remembered the sensations of wind and falling, being in one place… and then another.
“You owe me,” Ago said, his fangs descending. The gold chains around his neck glittered with cold arrogance. He enjoyed torturing me. Let me think I could get away, run fast enough, then leapfrogged faster than I changed directions.
The roaring in my head made me want to puke. “I pinned you to a freaking wall.”
Hatred twisted Ago’s face. “Stupid little cunt. You think I had to stay there?” He angled his head as his hybrids growled, curdling the night. “Run. They’re hungry.”
The imagery freaked me out. What would it feel like to be killed by hybrids? About as weird as imagining it happening. Wasting the precious seconds I had before I died. Because I was going to die. Ago would kill me, rather than turn me. Out of rage or uncontrolled revenge. And if he didn’t, I’d syphon until he had no choice—either him or me.
Because if the vampire turned me…
I’d become a monstrosity, no different from the other abominations Barend created. Grayson would have no choice but to kill me. He’d force himself to do it, find the strength. See the mercy in ending the torture. He would do it himself… because he was a dread lord. My mate. He would do it with love, trust no one else. And he would forever hate himself for doing it. Find no redemption, and that was the greatest reason of all to syphon until either Ago or I became… nothing. I’d spare Grayson the pain. Because I would not become some fucking hybrid that my mate had to kill.
I’d burn both the vampire and myself before I let that happen.
Hatred drove me. A numb determination to end this. End Ago. Take as many hybrids with me as fate allowed.
My fingers heated as I pulled energy from the ground and sent it flying toward Ago. The snarl in my throat ached, but I wanted him to burn. The way Julien had burned. A torch in the night.
But I summoned… sparks that disappeared in the snow at his feet.
Ago’s smirk felt like a slap to the face. “They say you burned yourself out. Makes it easier for me.”
My hands shook. “Come closer and find out.”
“I won’t have to touch you. You’ll be begging me to make it stop.”
Make his hybrids stop ripping, chewing…
My fingertips trembled, but I hadn’t tried to use my syphoning ability in Westvale, not even with Leo or Oscar. All I’d managed was a tingly rush, moments ago, when I’d pushed through the club, and the spark I’d sent toward the boy selling drugged brownies.
I wasn’t counting whatever incident Anson’s best healer used to justify tying me down in a hospital bed. For all anyone knew, he set the sheets on fire for the excuse.
And for all I knew, this was Ago spreading vampire bullshit to disarm me. It might be burnout, or Anson’s wards, or the freezing cold that made it difficult to syphon. A thousand reasons I’d never even think about. If I mentally stunted myself, I’d block the ability. If I was afraid—out of guilt—to actually syphon, that would explain the sputter more than Carmag’s screwed up magic. Hadn’t Laura reminded me? I hurt people every time I tried to help. I might have a psychological block, a dark, shaming fear that nulled my own abilities.
The jarring clang behind me had to be a pipe falling on cement, but I still flinched. My teeth clattered. A shattering sob surged to the surface. Grayson. We’d come so close. Held the fleeting dream through those moments making snow angels. His laugh, warming that space in my heart. The hope in his eyes. I’d given his wolf my sigil, swore to protect him and everything that went with it.
The pain ripping at my heart was enough to buckle my knees. So soon… so little time. I’d dared to hope in a future for us when all this ended.
Chest aching, I realized it was ending now.
Ending as I ran along a snowy path. But at least he’d have our memories. I’d be gone, and he would grieve.
This was a better end for us, a clean, sharp end with a wound that would eventually heal. Not the slow haunted despair in seeing what I’d become if Ago got his way.
“How much longer, bitch?”
The singsong cadence in Ago’s voice changed nothing. My fear didn’t lessen or increase. My heart pounded just as fucking hard while the air rasped in my throat.
I kept running while defeat pushed hard. Where was I going? What would I do when I got there? Find some house, slam the door so the vampire remained outside? And then what?
Then fucking what?
“You made the bargain with Barend. He still intends to collect.”
The bargain. Barend would think that way—my friends were free, and I owed him.
My arms pumped. My feet slapped against the pavement. The coat was constricting, and sweat coated my body, pooling along my spine.
“Barend can go to hell,” I growled. Sounding wolf-like. Sounding like Grayson.
Ago disappeared, reappeared yards in front of me, lunging as I pivoted toward the river. “Hell is a human concept,” he taunted. “Created in the mind.”
I heaved in a breath. Conversations while running—stupid, Noa. That was why he kept talking, goading me into each response.
The hybrids howled but kept back, relentless enough that I increased the pace. My leg muscles burned. Ago became a black smear. Then he was leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed. He shook his head in disgust. “You’re slowing down.”
Because I had nothing left. Just the deadening anger that cramped in my veins. And the truth, that if I stopped, then everything I loved would just… stop.
My vision narrowed. Outrunning a vampire was impossible, but as I stared toward the river, a fleeting idea rose to the surface.
Vampires were unholy creatures, unable to cross water.
As foolish as ropes of garlic?
“Make it easy on yourself,” the vampire said.
“You mean easy on you, asshole.”
“Whatever.” Ago lunged with that preternatural speed. I stopped thinking and jumped into the Claw.