Page 5

The problem with the room was that, like most motel rooms, it only had one door. There was no window in the bathroom, which meant no possible exit, except through the door. One door in meant one door out. But the biggest vulnerability wasn’t the door at all. It was the massive window right next to the door. Anything at all could kick it in and jump us while we slept.

“We’ll need to draw some warding sigils,” I muttered, assessing the situation. So long as the sigils were drawn in chalk and then activated with a few drops of human blood, they’d work just fine, even though neither of us was a warlock. I didn’t really understand why, but certain symbols had power all on their own and just drawing them in the correct way was enough to make them functional. I frowned, then added, “And probably a spirit trap, just to be on the safe side. Two, actually. One for the door and one for the window.”

Spirit traps would capture any spectral entities that were dumb enough to step into them. They’d also slow down most types of fae creatures and monsters. At least the ones that weren’t vampires, witches, or werewolves.

If Michael and I slept in shifts—

Michael’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his pocket, opened the app he’d been using, then frowned at the screen. He shot me an almost embarrassed look.

“Look, I—”

“Yeah, sure. Go,” I told him, not letting him finish the rest. I didn’t want to hear it. “I’ll be fine here. Just be back in the morning. We’re heading to Ontario tomorrow.”

“Oregon again?” He grimaced with distaste. “I was kind of hoping to not go back there for a while.”

“Ontario has a nest of vamps that we need to go make dead.”

“Can’t we send someone else? We know other hunters. Aubrey—”

“Is in Denver right now. She’s dealing with the revenant that’s killing all those movie theater workers.”

“Right. Okay. Maybe we could call Charlie and Sarah.”

“They just had a kid. They’re done with hunting.”

“Right.” Michael grimaced again. “Look, are we sure these vampires are…” He trailed off, frowning at me, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

I knew exactly what his problem was. We hadn’t encountered any vampires that had needed killing since meeting Bryan and Tobias and discovering that not every vampire—hell, not evenmost—were soulless monsters. He let out a low breath. “I mean, we’re friends with one of them now. Doesn’t that make it weird for you, the thought of hunting other vampires?”

There it was. In one sentence. Every single one of my worst fears.

For five years, Michael had been driven by his hatred of the supernatural. Of vampires in specific. But after learning that some of them weren’t evil—that many of them were actually pretty good people—all that hatred and fear inside of him had drained away.

Maybe it was fucked up, but without it, Michael would want to stop eventually. He’d get tired of wondering if he was doing the right thing all the time. And then he’d leave. Everyone does, eventually. And the fact that things were so weird between us now meant that would probably happen sooner rather than later.

How much time did I have left?

Could I measure it in years? Months? Weeks? Or was it less than that?

Would it blindside me when it happened? I already knew it would shatter me into a million jagged little pieces when he walked out the door for good.

I did my best to push those thoughts away, but they were getting harder and harder to shove off.

“Look, I get that not all vampires need to be put down,” I said, after realizing that it was my turn to say something to break the uneasy silence. “But this nest of vamps has been leaving a trail of bodies all the way from Boise to Baker City. They’re the bad kind, I promise.”

“Maybe we can—”

“They’re killers, Michael. If we don’t go, they’ll murder more innocent people. We can’t reason with them. End of story.”

His phone chimed again.

We both froze. Michael glanced down at the screen then looked back up at me, a wall sliding over his expression.

His hookup was waiting.

“Go,” I told him, trying to sound like it wasn’t exactly like chewing on broken glass, night after night. “It’s fine. Just don’t come back hung over again. You’re driving.”

“For sure.” He grinned at me, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I should probably shower first.”